


When Midnight Comes

by Curly_Kay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Banter, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Humor, Light Bondage, Mutual Pining, No Time Turners, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26679373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curly_Kay/pseuds/Curly_Kay
Summary: “Granger, look at me.” Draco walked up to her, his silver eyes searching hers. “We are stuck in a time loop, all of us. I don’t know how long it’s been happening, but it’s been going for weeks and I’m the only one who has been outside the loop. I’m the only one who has remembered anything from one day to the next, that is before now—before you.”His throat bobbed with a harsh swallow. “Please, I need your help.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 337
Kudos: 1280





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BreathOfThePhoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreathOfThePhoenix/gifts).



> Written as a birthday gift for my wonderful friend breathofthephoenix
> 
> All the alpha/beta love to In_Dreams, LauraArmada, and PotionChemist <3

As Hermione followed the familiar path from the library back to her dorm, she heard a clatter followed by a strange hissing noise. Brow furrowing, she retrieved her wand and quietly stepped into the Transfiguration classroom through the open door. 

A lanky person wearing robes that were one size too big slipped the lid off a jar on the desk across the room. The boy had dark orange hair and a myriad of freckles splattered across his face. Even though he was wearing Hufflepuff robes, Hermione knew she had never seen the boy before.

There was only one student who regularly donned disguises for mischief—something he had learned from his redheaded twin idols.

“Michael James Lupin!” 

She put on her most authoritative voice as she stomped over to the desk with her hands on her hips.

Mike jumped and hid his hands behind his back, dropping the glass lid in the process. He flinched as it broke with a loud crack. “Hermi—I mean, who are you? I’m but a lowly first year and I’m...lost.”

“ _ Finite _ .”

One by one, his freckles disappeared and his red hair faded into a sandy blond, the Hufflepuff patch shifted into a red emblem with a lion.

Hermione snorted inelegantly, flicking her wand once once. Alexandra Black emerged from her hiding place behind the tapestry at the back of the room, heels dragging as the spell pulled her towards the empty spot next to Mike. 

“Honestly, it’s always you two! You’re in your fourth year now. You can’t be pulling pranks like you did when you were small and cute. You’ll get in actual trouble this year,” she reprimanded, looking between the pair. 

“Some of us are still small and cute,” Alexandra added in a barely audible grumble, the toe of her shoe digging into the floor as she shifted in place. “And it’s not a prank.”

Rolling her eyes in disbelief, Hermione asked, “What? Fancy a midnight snack then? Couldn’t make it to the kitchens and had to nick a biscuit from McGonagall?”

“We just wanted her to relax before the exam tomorrow!” Mike whined as Hermione mended the shattered glass lid and placed it back on the desk. “She always has one with her morning tea.”

She paused, her eyes flicking from the biscuit jar to Mike’s hidden hands to Alexandra’s impish smile. With a quick tug of his arm, she pried his fingers apart and found he was holding a bunch of slightly off-colour biscuits. 

His eyes fell downward in shame as Hermione took a biscuit and sniffed it. It smelled strangely familiar, almost like—

“Michael! Do these have  _ catnip  _ in them?!”

The grin on Alexandra’s face grew even wider, a glint of mischief in her silver eyes.

Hermione confiscated the entire handful from Mike, crushing several in the process. “What in the world were you two thinking!”

“She’s always so uptight and we have the biggest exam tomorrow,” Alexandra reasoned with a small shrug. “We’re doing her a favour, you see. My cat loves it.”

“You cannot compare your professor to Bubbles!”

Alexandra huffed, “You just don’t like her because Bubbles and Crookshanks had their row about who got to sit in the biggest box last Christmas and Bubbles won!”

“Oh my god.” Hermione disposed of the crumpled biscuits with her wand and then turned to face the two students. “You two need to go back to Gryffindor Tower before I take away all the house points you have! Breaking curfew and trying to  _ drug  _ a professor, you should know better!”

“Drugs!” Mike exclaimed, looking from Alexandra to Hermione. “It’s not even the good stuff, catnip doesn’t count!”

“I’ll owl your parents! Sure, your dads may think you’re continuing the Marauder legacy but your mums—” Her threat was cut off by a pair of horrified gasps.

With a forceful pull, Alexandra led Mike to the doorway of the classroom. Their hurried steps were the only sound Hermione could hear as she called out, “If you want to do well in your exam, then go study!”

The rest of her walk was uneventful, and Hermione felt her feet dragging more with each step as she muttered ‘ _ Unitatis’, _ the password to the head dorm, and stumbled through the portrait entrance. Suppressing a yawn with the back of her hand, she crossed the empty common room and made her way to the plush sofa, collapsing onto it and dropping her bag in the process. 

It was barely a month into the new school year, and though she denied it to anyone who asked, she was already feeling overwhelmed with her schedule. She had taken as many N.E.W.T.-level classes as allowed, volunteered for several organisations, and had the added responsibility of her Head Girl duties. 

The move from Gryffindor Prefect to Head Girl had been a harder transition than she had anticipated. Her duties took more than triple the amount of time she had originally allocated in her schedule. Random incidents sprouted up everywhere, from Prefect disputes to first years needing extra comfort for homesickness. Even the professors requested her time to lead detention or to help them devise a strategy to handle problem students.

However, the biggest surprise of seventh year had been that she didn’t mind living with the Head Boy, Draco Malfoy.

For the first few years of their Hogwarts education, Draco had spent his days teasing Hermione and her friends at every given opportunity. He mocked her hair, her teeth, her intellect, her upbringing—nothing was off limits. The relentless provocation continued well into their fifth year and then suddenly stopped. As far as Hermione knew, nothing had happened to trigger his change of heart but she was grateful for it nevertheless. 

By the middle of sixth year, their interactions were neutral and almost friendly. They communicated very little outside of the occasional Prefect patrol, excluding the one time they were paired together for a Potions assignment. Together, they scored a Outstanding on their brew of Felix Felicis which, according to Snape, had never been accomplished by students before.

_ “It would appear that we make a good team, Granger,”  _ Draco had said with his signature smirk.

Apparently the Headmaster agreed, because just a few months later, she received her Head Girl badge in the post and saw Draco’s name listed alongside hers. 

With a soft grunt, she stretched her arms above her head and lolled her neck from side to side. Her gaze caught on the cluttered table in front of the fireplace. In the last month of living together, Draco had been nothing but impeccably tidy, though Hermione had reason to suspect he had the house-elves clean up while they were in class. 

After spending several minutes unsuccessfully ignoring the mess, she decided she would rather clean first and yell at Draco second. She hooked her bag around her shoulder and cleared the table, inspecting each item carefully before adding it to the growing stack in her arms. The pile included several books—none of which were standard textbooks—quills, an ink pot, a handful of parchment, and a bracelet. 

She looked down at the dainty gold and emerald bracelet laced between her fingers, wondering who the recipient of his gift would be. 

For some reason, the thought made her stomach twist in an uncomfortable manner. 

She hadn’t seen anyone sneaking in or out of his room but she had heard rumours of his dating life; they spread like wildfire whenever he spoke to a single witch. It seemed everyone was interested in who he would court after Hogwarts, an apparent Pureblood tradition. She tried to shrug off the question as she added the jewellery to her already full arms.

The overloaded bag began to slip down her shoulder as she walked to the desk on the opposite side of the common room. Wiggling uncomfortably, Hermione attempted to shift the strap back up her shoulder to its rightful position. The bag slipped down further, catching on the crook of her arm forcefully and causing her to drop everything she was carrying. All at once, the pile of Draco’s supplies and the contents of Hermione’s bag dumped all over the floor in a mixed disaster.

“Oh my god,” Hermione muttered under her breath. Kneeling on the cold stone floor, she began to separate their items back into two distinct piles.

After shoving her quill, parchment, and books back into her bag, Hermione hooked the strap over the back of the seat next to the Head Girl desk. She walked back over to the remainder of Draco's supplies on the floor, gathering them in her arms with a huff.

The door to the Head Boy’s room swung open, and the handle slammed against the railing with a loud clang. 

“Merlin’s balls, Granger, I really don’t need this tonight. Why do you insist on doing schoolwork at the most ridiculous hour? Are you allergic to sleep?” he sounded exasperated, and possibly a bit amused.

“Well, if you didn’t leave your supplies laying about the room, I wouldn’t have had to clean up after you,” Hermione fumed as she pushed her stray curls out of her face with her free hand before stacking another book into the crook of her arm. “Contrary to what you obviously believe,  _ I am not your house-elf! _ ”

As she rose to her full height, she looked up at Draco. He descended the stairs from his room, meeting her at the base between the two desks. His lips curled up into a devilish smirk and her mouth went dry as she took in his appearance; his hair was wet and hung in strands over his eyes, his chest was bare and he wore a pair of sleep bottoms which hung low on his hips.

Her mouth parted in shock as she stared at him—he had never walked around the common room wearing so little clothing before and her mind stuttered at the sight.

His lean torso had the faint outline of abdominal muscles and her eyes drifted down to the V above his waistband, the thin fabric clinging to his still-damp skin. She swallowed hard, turning back towards her task, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

“Forget how to dress yourself without your servants, Malfoy?” Her voice felt unsteady and her eyes were trained on the floor. Beneath her skin, her pulse quickened.

She could hear the smirk in his voice as he drawled, “You interrupted my peaceful shower stomping around like a herd of slighted Hippogriffs. You should be grateful I’m even wearing bottoms. This is more than I sleep in.”

The flush on her face grew.

He bent over and took the stack of books from her arms, his fingers brushing along the soft skin of her hand, and her eyes flew up to meet his. His gaze flicked down to her lips, and she watched his throat dip as her breathing grew shallow. 

“That’s...hardly appropriate, Malfoy.” Her throat grew tighter as she tried to speak the words. 

Part of his hair had fallen to the wrong side, and she had the sudden urge to reach up and fix it for him. 

“Appropriate?” He arched a single brow, his voice lowering to a deep baritone. “Oh, the things I’d do to you, Granger…” His smirk pulled his lips to the side as he wrapped a single curl around his finger, winding it slowly. “I can assure you, are most certainly not  _ appropriate. _ ”

His words turned into liquid heat, pooling low in her stomach.

“I just want to see how far down your pretty blush goes.” He moved closer, his lips just at the shell of her ear. “You look tense. If you need some... _ release _ , you’re always welcome to join me in the shower.”

In the past six years, he had never spoken to her like that before, never  _ flirted _ with her before. She had seen him flirt with other witches in their year relentlessly, always around her, but he had never directed his attention  _ at  _ her. 

It was as if someone had used Polyjuice and taken the place of Draco Malfoy. 

He was mocking her, he  _ had  _ to be mocking her. 

She half choked on her inhale, nearly dropping the remaining items as she jumped to a standing position and shifted away from him. “You are  _ insufferable _ !” Irritation grew into rage as she imagined him laughing with Theo and Blaise about this tomorrow. “Ugh! What did I ever do to deserve being stuck with you as Head Boy? You’re arrogant, inconsiderate, and I absolutely will not—"

“—I know, I know, you absolutely will not lower your standards to the likes of me. I’d be better off finding some pathetic Slytherin with the personality of stale bread to woo because that’s all that I’ll ever attract. I’ve heard it all before. Oh, and don’t bother cleaning up, just leave it there. It doesn’t matter anyway.” The sparkle of mischief in his eyes had dulled as he glanced down at the textbooks in his arms before tossing them onto the desk haphazardly, his jaw clenching and relaxing. “None of it matters.”

Hermione’s lips curved down as she wondered when she had become so predictable. He had practically read her mind.

“Well, Malfoy, it might not matter to you, but I like having a tidy living space. I don’t want to wake up to a mess.”

Draco ran a hand down his face and an almost manic laugh burst from his lips. “You don’t have to worry about that, Granger. I can absolutely _ guarantee _ you that it won’t be there tomorrow. Just go to bed.”

He retreated into his room, slamming the door behind him. The whiplash of their conversation left her completely off-kilter. She stared slack-jawed at the closed door for several moments before she shook her head and continued her task of fixing up the room. 

It was nearly impossible to push the intoxicating— _ no, definitely not intoxicating _ , she corrected her thoughts—the  _ infuriating _ image of him half-dressed from her mind. With a huff, she unloaded his items onto his desk with an unceremonious thud. Straightening the heap of books and parchment, she brushed the spines curiously, skimming the titles.

With a cock of her head, she took in the various tomes, quickly identifying a theme. They were all variations on the study of time. There was nothing in the Hogwarts curriculum about time, she would know, she had volunteered to register students for classes across all years. It was a relatively unknown subject in the Wizarding World, but in the Department of Mysteries, there was an entire floor designated to the Department of Time and in order to be trained in the subject, you had to attend a specialised program after thorough vetting.

She made her way back over to her desk, opposite Draco’s, and pulled out a blank sheet of parchment. Dipping her quill into the spare pot of ink, she began her Ancient Runes essay. After about a half hour, she rubbed her stinging eyes, checking the time as she stifled a yawn. 

It was nearly midnight, and her blinks became slower and lazier by the minute. Her eyes drifted shut. From behind her closed lids she saw a burst of purple light and—

When Hermione’s eyes opened, she felt completely disoriented. Sitting up in her bed, she rested her head in her hands, trying to block out the light from her window. She felt almost hungover, but she hadn’t had any alcohol the night before. Dropping her hands, she squinted at her clock and her pulse skipped a beat.

“Shit!” she swore under her breath, hopping out of bed and quickly changing from her pyjamas into a fresh uniform. 

After shrugging on her robes and sloppily pinning the Head Girl badge to the outermost robe, she jogged out of her room and down the stairs into the main area of the common room. Draco was nowhere to be seen. If she had a  _ considerate _ dormmate, he might have given her a courtesy knock to wake her up. At this rate, Hermione would have to skip breakfast to make it to class on time.

She hurried down the corridor in the direction of the large moving stairs, annoyed that she would have to attend double Potions on an empty stomach.

A familiar flash of red hair caught her eye as she rounded the corner.

“Hermione!” Harry called, waving her over to him from across the corridor.

Ron and Harry were standing at the edge of the walkway, waiting for the next set of stairs to transition.

She felt the tension leave her shoulders as she sighed in relief and made her way over to her best friends. “I completely overslept today, missed breakfast, and was almost late for class,” she lamented, watching as the descending staircase aligned with their path. 

As she turned to step onto the topmost step, Ron pulled at her forearm, dragging her backwards. “Wow,” Ron’s brows shot up into his messy fringe. “You need to get more sleep, ‘Mione. Did you forget the way to Ancient Runes already?”

“Ancient Runes?”

“Yes—Ancient Runes, if we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late and Professor Babbling is going to give me detention for being late twice in one month,” Harry grumbled as an ascending staircase came to a creaking stop in front of them.

One by one, they entered the staircase, she stood between the boys and glanced between them. Hermione picked at her nails, a nervous habit, as she fidgeted side to side while the stairs rotated and began moving upward. “But we  _ just  _ had Ancient Runes—”

“—Yes, and we have it again,” Ron spoke slowly before muttering, “You are  _ not _ a morning person when you haven’t had your tea.”

Biting back her retort, she noticed a group of Hufflepuffs from their year follow the path to class. She felt dizzy, as if nothing made sense. 

The trio arrived at the classroom just in time for the lesson to begin. Hermione sat in her usual seat between Harry and Ron in the front row, a strange feeling settling in her chest. She attributed it to oversleeping—it must have thrown off her entire schedule for the day. She had been  _ so sure _ that today began with double Potions.

Professor Babbling’s cloak swayed behind her with a flourish as she navigated through the desks to the front of the room. “Good morning, class,” she greeted with a bright smile, her grey hair tucked and pinned into a tight bun as it had been the day before. “Welcome to another magical day at Hogwarts.”

“I am assigning a two-foot essay on the ancient rune for the number seven, due at the start of class on October twenty-third.” Professor Babbling paused for effect, waving a hand as the students in the class groaned. “Yes, yes, I’m aware of your love of essays. You are welcome for this gift of knowledge. I implore you, do not procrastinate—this is worth a quarter of your overall term grade. I will be available for questions each day after class if need be.”

Hermione frowned. The unsettled feeling in her chest grew as she scanned the classroom for her peers’ reaction. This was the essay she had started the night before; it had already been assigned.

“The essay may contain anything you deem relevant to your studies on the magical qualities of the number seven, as long as you evaluate the rune properly and give historic context as to its purpose.”

Babbling waved her wand and rows of details appeared on the board behind her while she spoke, “As you may remember from your studies of Arithmancy, seven is the most powerful magical number. It was Arithmancer Bridget Wenlock whose theorem exposed the magical properties of this number. Her discovery altered the way we view the world, but this ground-breaking theorem was originally written on the back of a sugar packet using invisible ink.”

A strange sense of deja-vu swept over Hermione, making the hairs on her arms and neck stand up. This was the same content from class yesterday; Babbling had talked to her about the details she’d found in  _ Hogwarts: A History. _ Bathilda Bagshot mentioned the design of the castle included this magical property— seven years in a Hogwarts education, seven floors in the castle, and seven core classes. The founders incorporated seven into the school to strengthen the core magic at the heart of Hogwarts.

Babbling continued with her melodic drawl, “It was almost lost forever when she mistakenly believed the theorem was on an envelope instead of the sugar packet! Just imagine how the world we know would be changed without this information—”

Hermione raised her hand, interrupting Babbling’s thought.

With a kind smile, Babbling turned to Hermione and gestured for her to speak. “Yes, Miss Granger?”

“Sorry for the interjection, Professor, but didn’t we cover this yesterday? I vividly recall that we talked about Bridget Wenlock’s theorem already. You told us about the irony of her name, seven letters in her first and last names—as if foreshadowing her future contributions to magical society.”

Wrinkles formed in Babbling’s forehead. “We did not have class yesterday, Miss Granger. Perhaps you read ahead on the material and are misremembering?”

The class snickered at Hermione’s expense as she flushed in embarrassment.

Harry leaned over his desk towards her and whispered, “You’re already Head Girl, Hermione, I think you can relax on the study habits this year.”

Blood rushed in her ears, filling them with white noise as her mortification grew, blurring out the words of those around her. 

Everyone was staring.

“Yes…I must be confused. Too many late nights, I suppose,” she chuckled weakly, looking down at her empty parchment.

After the attention shifted back to Babbling, Hermione felt the distinct prickle of someone’s eyes on her. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Draco Malfoy watching her with an intense stare. He was not laughing with the rest of the class. In fact, he looked paler than usual and had an air of panic around him. 

Recalling the way he had talked to her the night before, she briefly wondered if he was regretting his mocking proposition. She turned back to face the front of the room, her eyes fixed on Professor Babbling as she lectured. 

The rest of the class continued as it had the day before. Babbling spoke of the significance of the seven letters in Bridget Wenlock’s first and last name—looking to Hermione with a glint in her eye. 

Hermione shrunk down in her seat, wishing she had Harry’s Invisibility Cloak and could disappear.

It made no sense that she could start an essay before it was even assigned; she didn’t believe in Divination and certainly was not a Seer. She stilled, she had forgotten about the essay itself!

Reaching into her bag, she shuffled through her carefully organized parchment, searching for the paper she had begun the night before.

Her heart fell into her stomach. It was gone. She had lost nearly a foot of work, and she never lost her schoolwork. Counting her inhales and exhales, Hermione tried to calm herself before she devolved into a full blown panic attack.

Before she knew it, Babbling dismissed the class. 

“I’m posting the Gryffindor Quidditch tryout results this weekend,” Harry mentioned as they packed up their bags and followed their classmates out of the room. “Honestly, Hermione, I know you don’t like Quidditch but you should’ve come to watch tryouts. We had a fantastic turnout! The Chasers especially—there were so many talented Chasers applying this year. It was a tough decision.”

“It wouldn’t have done any good to have me there.” She gave him a look, scrunching her nose as they turned a corner. “You are going to be a fantastic captain. I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of selecting the best Chaser.”

“…but I’m definitely going to be Keeper again this year, right?” Ron lengthened his strides to catch up to the pair.

Harry shrugged off his bag and opened it just enough to tease the top of the list before snapping it shut with a teasing wiggle of his brows. “You’ll have to wait until the posting goes up, just like everyone else.”

“That’s not fair, I’m your best mate! Doesn’t that entitle me to a sneak preview?” Ron asked, his voice growing desperate. “You don’t even have to say anything, just blink twice if I’m on the team.”

Jogging forward, Ron cut Harry off to a dead stop.

With a scowl, Harry intentionally opened his eyes wider.

“Harry…” Ron waved a hand in front of his face, whispering, “Blink twice…”

Narrowing his eyes, Harry shook his head, refusing to give in to the urge.

“Harry. Blink. Twice.”

Harry’s eyes watered as he struggled to keep them open.

Finally, he caved and blinked twice in rapid succession, rolling his eyes as Ron donned a proud grin, slapping his hands together in excitement. “ _ I knew it _ ! We are going to win the Quidditch Cup this year—I just feel it!”

“It’s going to be our best team yet,” Harry replied with a matching grin as they started back down the corridor.

“Draco, I didn’t see you at the Quidditch pitch this morning. Are you feeling okay?” Hermione heard Blaise Zabini ask, his voice full of concern.

With a quick look, she was surprised to see Draco was just a few steps away from her, walking next to Blaise. She tuned out Harry and Ron’s excited chatter about the team placements and tried to listen in on the conversation behind her.

“I’m fine,” Draco mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding her eye contact. “Just not feeling up for Quidditch today.”

Blaise stopped mid-step, his hand reaching out to catch Draco in the chest and stop. “Not feeling up for Quidditch? That doesn’t sound fine to me. You’ve been insufferably obsessed with flying since you received your first toy broom when we were five, and suddenly you’re ‘not feeling up for Quidditch’?”

Draco looked incredibly uncomfortable, his hands gripped the clasp of his bag until his knuckles turned white. Their conversation faded as Hermione walked further away, following Harry and Ron’s lead.

“Yeah well, over the summer I’ve been practicing the Double Eight Loop; I feel like it’ll really give us an edge over Ravenclaw this year.” Ron puffed his chest out.

“The Double Eight Loop’s primary benefit comes when there is only one Chaser,” Hermione interrupted, her attention now back with them. “Ravenclaw’s strategy is to move in numbers, that won’t work against them. Perhaps Hufflepuff,” she added thoughtfully. “They tend to divide and conquer with their Chasers, you’re statistically more likely to block their Quaffles using the Double Eight Loop.”

Harry looked wildly at Hermione, as if she suddenly sprouted wings.

“What?” she asked with a slight bounce to her step before tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “I’ve been listening to you two go on about this stuff for nearly seven years, you think I wasn’t listening? That being said, if you’re stuck between Chasers, you should give a spot to Ginny; she’s particularly agile compared to some of the men on the team and she has perfected the Porskoff Ploy which works brilliantly against Slytherin’s main defence.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered, the tips of his ears pinkened. “Mate, she’s not wrong.”

“When am I ever wrong, Ronald?”

* * *

Stepping over the threshold of the common room entrance, Hermione saw a head of platinum blond hair pacing across the room. Draco stopped mid-stride at the sight of her.

“Granger,  _ finally _ . How long does it take to walk back from the fifth floor? I know your legs are short but surely your steps can’t be that tiny.”

Rolling her eyes, she brushed past him. “I take perfectly normal sized steps, thank you very much. What was so important you couldn’t wait? I’ve already done the postings for the Prefect rounds this week.”

His hand tugged through his hair, tussling it. “It’s not about the Prefect rounds. I needed to tell you that you’re right, Granger.”

“Did you get hit on the head?” Her eyes scanned his untucked shirt and loosened tie with concern. “Do you know where you are right now? My name is Her-Mi-O-Ne.”

“I get it, I know you don’t trust me. You think I’m a prat or that I’m lying. Can we skip over that bit for now? You’ve got to listen to me, just give me one minute without interrupting,” he pleaded, a touch of desperation in his voice.

She faltered before nodding for him to continue.

“Granger,  _ you are right _ . We had that lesson yesterday.”

“Stop,” she huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively. “I know you think you’re being clever but it’s not funny and I don’t appreciate it. Everyone already laughed at me during class; you should’ve joined in then when you had a captive audience.”

“That wasn’t a minute,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, today is October second. It’s the same day it was yesterday and the day before tha. It’s the same day it will be tomorrow. I’ve lost track but by my estimate it’s been October second for nearly three weeks.”

Hermione blinked, frozen in place, her brain trying to decipher his words. She hesitated, for the first time really taking in his frantic demeanor. He was always so calm and collected, even when they were having a row. She had never seen him look like this before.

“What?” was all she could think to ask.

“Granger, look at me.” Draco walked up to her, his silver eyes searching hers. “We are stuck in a time loop, all of us. I don’t know how long it’s been happening, but it’s been going for weeks and I’m the only one who has been outside the loop. I’m the only one who has remembered anything from one day to the next, that is before now—before you.”

His throat bobbed with a harsh swallow. “Please, I need your help.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Weeks?” she repeated, panic gripping at her chest and her fingers tapping against her thigh as she tried to process his words. “You’ve been in a time loop for  _ weeks _ ?”

“Yes.”

It sounded impossible at first but the longer she considered it, the more it made sense. Everything had repeated—an exact loop. Just a single morning of it had her questioning her sanity and he had been in it for weeks.

Alone.

“Are you…” She paused, meeting his eye. “Are you okay?”

He faltered, a small crease forming between his brows, and gave a short nod, as if surprised by her question. “As okay as I can be, given the circumstances. I’ve been going fucking mad trying to solve this on my own.”

“Why didn’t you—”

“—I did,” he cut her off with a bitter scoff. “I’ve told others, but it’s practically impossible without tangible proof. No one believes me. A few think I’m pulling a prank, others think I’ve been hit by a bludger one too many times, and by the time I convince anyone of anything, the day restarts. Hell, I even told you once and you told me to sod off with my ‘immature and poorly thought out farse’.”

She grimaced, guilt crashing over her in waves. It would be maddening to live the same day over and over again but change nothing, to desperately try to convince others to no avail. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I wish I had believed you then.”

“I’m just glad you’re here now.”

“How?” His head cocked slightly at her question and she amended it, “How am I here now? Why am I just now joining the loop?”

He gave a small shrug, releasing the tension in his shoulders. “I don’t know, I don’t know how I’m here in the first place.”

Taking a steadying breath, she sat down on the sofa and dropped the bag on the floor next to her. “When does the day reset? What have you tried? Who have you told? Have you made any progress so far?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I knew you’d help.”

“This is just a puzzle, right?” she reasoned, retrieving a piece of parchment and quill from her bag. “Tell me what you know so far. We’ll fill in the empty pieces and figure out the full picture together.”

He joined her on the sofa, the smell of his aftershave wafting towards her. She caught herself taking an extra long inhale. “No matter what I do, nothing changes, no one remembers. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing—when the clock hits midnight, I open my eyes and it’s the next morning.” He shifted, their thighs nearly touching as he leaned forward and watched as she wrote.

“It doesn’t matter…” she echoed softly, pausing her notation mid-sentence and looking up at him with wide eyes. “That’s what you said to me last night, ‘it doesn’t matter, none of it matters.’”

Ducking his head in embarrassment, his face twisted uncomfortably. “Granger...about last night—”

“It’s okay, really,” she rushed to assure him, wanting to avoid the topic entirely. It was obvious now that he had only said those things under the belief that she would forget that interaction ever happened. “Have you talked like that to me before?” she asked, unable to stem her curiosity. “Knowing I wouldn’t remember?”

There was a hint of a smile on his face as he replied, “You did slap me last week.”

She gasped, stuck between a mixture of horror and pride. “What did you do?!”

“I made some quip about House-Elves; honestly, I should’ve known better. I had a bad day and was just trying to rile you up.”

“You know, Malfoy, I’m beginning to think that was your favourite pastime in the loop.” She thought back to the way his heated gaze had burned through her the night before and straightened the paper on the table to keep her hands busy as she added, “Riling me up.”

“Oh, Granger, riling you up has always been my favourite pastime.”

Her pulse skipped at his tone. She worried her lower lip between her teeth and dropped her quill on the table next to the parchment. “I saw the books you had last night, did you find anything useful in them?”

“I’ve read every mention of time travel and time loops in the library, and nothing has been even remotely helpful.” He let out a harsh exhale, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips in frustration. “That is, unless you find stories of people dying in perpetual time loops helpful.”

She tried to calm her erratic breathing, her gaze flicked up to count the Hogwarts emblems that were carved into the stone which lined the common room. While inhaling, she counted seven before releasing her breath slowly.

The feeling in her chest tightened at the thought of reliving this same day for the next hundred years of her life, of never getting to progress, of never getting married, or finishing school, she would never get to see her parents grow old, or give them grandchildren and she couldn’t—

“Shit,” Draco’s eyes widened at the look on her face. “Fuck. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—that is, you’ve always been better at research than I have. Maybe I missed something? It can’t hurt to get the books and catch you up.”

Despite her near-crippling fear, she felt herself smile. “Did you just apologise  _ and _ compliment me in the same sentence?”

Letting out a choked laugh, he grinned. “Would you look at that? There’s hope for us yet. Firsthand proof that miracles can happen.”

She swatted at him playfully before remembering herself; her hand faltered and an uncomfortable silence filled the space between them.

“The best information that I’ve come across have been from tomes in the Restricted Section, but in order to do so, I had to catch a professor before class started and lie about why I needed access. If you don’t get the slip before class, by the time they’re done with lessons and supper, there’s hardly any time left for reading before midnight…” his voice trailed off as his eyes caught on the clock.

“That’s quite alright. We don’t have to get permission,” Hermione declared before standing up and making her way over to the portrait.

Standing up from the sofa, he jogged to meet her, following as they stepped through the exit. “What, are you going to petrify Pince? I don’t see how you’re going to get around a slip otherwise.”

“We’re going to Gryffindor Tower.”

His footsteps halted and she kept walking. “Absolutely not.”

Stopping mid-stride, she turned and closed the space between them. “Do you want to get into the Restricted Section or not?”

“Obviously.”

“And do you feel like assaulting a member of the faculty today?”

He cocked his head, visibly contemplating the question.

“Malfoy!”

Sighing, he reluctantly mumbled, “Probably not.”

“Then we are going to Gryffindor Tower,” she announced, turning on her heel. After several long moments, she heard the sound of his footsteps and low grumbles trailing behind her.

* * *

Climbing through the portrait and back out into the corridor, Hermione scanned the hall and found Draco off to the side waiting for her. “You could’ve come inside with me,” she teased. “They don’t bite.”

“What do you have there?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the cloak in her hand.

She responded by pulling the cloak around herself and disappearing.

“Potter has an Invisibility Cloak?!” he exclaimed, reaching out into the air in front of him and barely missing Hermione. 

“It could be Ron’s.”

He snorted.

With a roll of her eyes, she opened up the cloak, revealing herself. “Are you coming or what?”

She saw him hesitate before lifting the fabric and slipping underneath it beside her. It suddenly occurred to her that the cloak, which comfortably fit three eleven-year-olds, was a tight fit for two adults. Her elbow bumped into his torso as they walked, he knocked against her and she stopped quickly. 

“We should probably try walking in tandem,” she whispered, feeling the heat radiating off his body. “I’ll walk in front and you follow behind?”

Draco exhaled, as if he had been holding his breath. “Yeah.” She heard him swallow. “That’s a good idea.”

They started again, walking down the corridor together, silently heading towards the library entrance. She felt hyper aware of each sound and movement coming from behind her. 

Hermione could not help but think about how broad his shoulders had become since they were children, and how he towered over her now. He was nearly a head taller than her, which meant she had to tuck herself close to his torso to allow the cloak to reach the floor. 

The proximity felt oddly intimate.

“What now?” he asked quietly, his voice low and raspy. 

A shiver ran down Hermione’s spine at the feeling of him tilting his head down closer to her; his breath was hot and sweet, and tickled the skin of her neck.

“Follow my lead,” she murmured softly, “and for once don’t argue with me.”

“I’ll try my best.” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

The library was unusually busy for a Thursday, which worked to their advantage; they were able to walk around without worrying about the sounds of their footsteps exposing their presence. 

Hermione led him past the Transfiguration section, next to the walls lined with the latest topics in Herbology. They navigated through the aisle and around the corner to where Madam Pince was stationed at her desk in front of the entrance to the Restricted Section. Her spectacles were perched at the end of her nose as she peered through them at the ancient text in front of her.

There was a shift in the fabric of the cloak and suddenly there was a loud thud from across the room. She followed Pince’s line of sight to a first year who was looking down in horror at the large tome he had just dropped against the stone floor. 

Pince clutched her chest and stormed out from behind the station, nearly running headfirst into Hermione and Draco. “Young man! I’ll have you know that tome is from the 18th century, you will treat it with the respect it deserves!” She stomped over to the frightened Hufflepuff who was stammering and apologizing profusely. 

“That wasn’t necessary,” Hermione hissed over her shoulder, glaring at him.

She caught his eyes widening and suddenly his hands landed on her waist and tugged firmly, stopping her before she took another step. Flicking her gaze back, she watched as a Ravenclaw balancing a tall stack of books narrowly missed them.

His hands dropped and her stomach flipped.

“After you.”

They quickly, and silently, collected a dozen books. After casting feather-light charms on them, the pair slipped back out of the library and into the safety of their common room.

As Hermione organised the books on the table in front of the sofa, Draco manoeuvred around the kitchen, preparing tea. Several minutes later, he levitated a full set of tea and a pile of teacakes on a large platter over to where she was sitting. 

He handed her the sugar and she accepted with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Malfoy. I know that you’ve already combed through these tomes but it’ll help me catch up if I go through them with you.” 

The sofa dipped with his weight as he settled in next to her. “Not much different than school in some ways. I suppose I’m lucky to have someone in the loop with me who actually enjoys studying.”

She made a soft noise under her breath, cracking open the nearest book. “Some of us don’t have the option to not enjoy it.”

“What do you mean by that?” From the corner of her eye, she saw him add a splash of milk to his tea. “You think you’re the only one with something to prove?”

Her eyes stuck on the sentence in front of her and she looked up at him with a bewildered expression. “You’re the heir to one of the largest fortunes in the Wizarding World and probably the Muggle World as well. You could do nothing for the rest of your life and live like a king. What do you have to  _ prove _ ?”

“To myself, that I’m more than my name. To my family, that I’m worthy of my name. To society, that I can be more than a donor at a charity ball escorting a pureblood wife who has the personality of stale bread.”

Guilt stabbed at her stomach. She recognised the phrasing from the night before, and she was positive that she had said it to him during a previous looping day that she had forgotten. “Malfoy—”

“That’s what you thought, isn’t it? It’s what everyone thinks. Sometimes, coming from nothing is worth more than coming from a family like mine.”

She tried to think of what to say but her mind was coming up blank.

“You should start on chapter thirteen—everything before that is on antiquated time theory and history of Pureblood war preparation.” He gestured with his hand and wandlessly flipped the pages in front of her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, burying her face in the book.

The tea had been set under a stasis charm and kept warm as they worked.

“This is probably a ridiculous question, but what happens if you stay awake past midnight?” Hermione asked curiously, peering at him from over the top of her book.

They had been reading for hours and her eyes were growing fatigued.

He tucked a bookmark between two pages and leaned back onto the sofa with a sigh. “I’ve tried a few different ways to stay up and beat the clock. I even left Hogwarts once. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, midnight strikes and I’m in my room again. It’s always the same.”

“I think that’s what happened to me last night. I didn’t remember going back to my room but I still woke up in my bed.

“What…”—he paused, searching for the words—“what if today was a fluke? What if you go back to bed tonight and you wake up tomorrow and it’s October 2nd but this time you have forgotten today and it’s only me again?”

“You’ll have to tell me then,” she insisted, having completely forgotten about trying to analyse the story in front of her. “You’ll have to tell me about the loop and what we covered today. I’ll help you.”

His eyes flicked up to the ceiling as he shook his head. “You’d never believe me. ”

“I—”

“I tried telling you a week into the loop. I came back to the common room and I was so frustrated because nothing was working. You were sitting in that seat”—he gestured to the empty wooden seat in front of the Head Girl desk—“with your head bent over your essay. I told you everything. You laughed at me.”

Hermione cringed, shrinking into herself. “I should’ve believed you.”

He shrugged it off. “I get it. Given our history, I should be glad you’re helping at all.”

“Now that I think about it, we could use that to our advantage, actually,” she mused, thumbing the pages of the book in her lap.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, how about we tell each other something that no one else knows? It’s proof that we had this conversation, that the loop is real, and that we need to take the other seriously,” she offered, closing the tome and placing it on the table.

He hummed under his breath, as if deliberating. “That’s...actually not a bad idea. Plus, I have to admit, I like the idea of knowing something about you that even Potter and Weasel don’t know.” 

Rolling her eyes, she shifted in place and turned her body to face his. “Let me think for a moment…Oh!” She pointed to her face. “See this scar? On my chin?”

He leaned in closer, tilting his head as he inspected her skin. Hermione felt her breath catch as he raised a single finger, lightly tracing the barely visible scar before pulling his hand back. Goosebumps formed under his touch.

“I was five,” she continued softly. “Not many people can even tell it’s there since it’s so small, but if anyone notices and asks, I tell them I got it from riding my bicycle when I was a child.”

“What really happened?” Draco asked, a small smirk growing on his face at her expression.

She put her head in her hands, mumbling the next words.

“You’re going to have to repeat that. I don’t think you’ll take my word for it if I only have half a story…”

“It was a book,” she groaned, feeling defeated. “I was reading a book in bed, laying on my back, holding it up over my head and I dropped the book.”

His head leaned back as he belly laughed, the sound warmed in her chest. “The scar is from a book attack? What was it,  _ The Monster Book of Monsters _ ?”

She nodded in confirmation, dragging her hands down her face. “It was a special edition poetry book of my mum’s with metal covered corners. It split my chin and I bled  _ everywhere, _ even ruined my favourite jumper. I told everyone it was from riding my bike because I was embarrassed that my only scar ever came from  _ reading _ .”

“Your true love betrayed you. I can see how that would be traumatising,” Draco feigned sympathy but his grin suggested otherwise.

“Honestly, who gets injured from reading?” she lamented.

“Extreme reading, I can’t think of anything more Granger than that.”

She made a face and waved her hand, prompting him to speak. “Alright, alright, now it’s your turn to tell me something. We don’t know how this magic works. What if today is a fluke and it transfers from you to me? If I’m stuck in this loop then I should have something ready as well. Tell me something that no one knows about Draco Malfoy.”

“Fine.” He shrugged indifferently before taking a long sip of his tea and setting the cup back in its saucer. “My godfather is Snape.”

“Oh no, that’s not good enough.” She wagged a finger in front of him in a teasing manner. “I told you something that no one knows, not even the doctor at the hospital who gave me my stitches.”

He hesitated before answering, “I...tried to fly upside down on my broom in third year and crashed.”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “That’s hardly a secret. Even I was there! Pansy was so smug about you showing off for her that she wouldn’t shut up about becoming the next Lady Malfoy for a month. You need a better story than that.”

After a few beats of silence he mumbled, “If you must know, I don’t particularly  _ love _ the Giant Squid, okay?”

Laughter took her by surprise and she clutched at her stomach as she giggled, “You’re afraid of the Giant Squid?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “If you tell anyone, I’ll say you’re lying.”

She pretended to lock her lips and toss the key, fighting back a new wave of laughter.

“Don’t laugh, you don’t know what it’s like!” His grin reached his eyes, causing them to crinkle in the corners. “The dungeons are under the lake and you can see it floating by during the night. Imagine waking up from a peaceful slumber and through the ominous green light there’s a massive eye watching you.”

From the size of the squid, she imagined the eye would probably fill up most of the window. 

Did squids blink?

“Okay, when you put it like that, it does sound rather terrifying,” she conceded with a shiver.

“It is! My entire first year, I hardly slept. I thought it was going to come through the glass and drag me through the window into the lake.”

Lifting her teacup to her lips, she tipped it back, finished the last sips and placed it back on her small platter. “Now you’re just being dramatic. Does the Giant Squid have the ability to phase through glass that only you are aware of?”

“You can’t say with absolute certainty that it doesn’t,” he replied, lifting the pot and serving her more tea.

“Thank you.” She smiled, watching as he mimicked her earlier preparation and dropped in two spoonfuls of sugar. “You sound like Ron and spiders.”

He froze with the spoon mid-stir, looking up at her incredulously. “You take that back.”

“In your defence, squids do have two more legs than spiders,” she mused, leaning forward and selecting a single teacake from the tray in front of them.

“It’s not even close and I’m not willing to entertain this conversation any further.”

Her lips twitched up into a smile at his pouting expression. He was adorable when she flustered him. “And tell me, was this the driving force for your ambition to become Head Boy? Escaping the dungeons?”

He sniffed, his head turned up. “I can neither confirm nor deny, but I will say that I have never slept better at school as I have in this dorm.”

“His name is Gary, you know.”

“Who?”

“Gary, the Giant Squid. It’s a whole thing with the Hufflepuffs, they’re the ones who named him,” she replied, biting into the small teacake. 

“Does Gary mean ‘bringer of death’?”

Covering her mouth with her hand, she struggled to swallow the bite. “You’re ridiculous. They take him really seriously. At the start of every school year they send a few of the younger students out with a sacrifice for him, usually just a roast chicken from the kitchens.”

His mouth dropped open. “That’s absurd!”

“I’m serious! It’s been a tradition ever since a Hufflepuff fell into the lake in the sixties and nearly drowned. The squid saved him and they’ve done it every year since. I accidentally interrupted them during my fourth year and they were quite cross with me. I’m pretty sure it began as an insurance policy of sorts but became a fun house tradition.”

He shook his head slowly before leaning back against the sofa. “I’ve always wondered what they do on their weekends, I have to admit that creating a sacrificial altar for a voyeuristic Giant Squid was not on the list.”

“I don’t believe there’s an altar”—she cocked her head thoughtfully—“but they did knit him a hat for Christmas last year.”

“Did they really?”

“He ate it.”

Draco threw his arms out in front of himself and tossed her a smug look. “I told you! Where does it end? First a hat, next a student.”

She glanced up at the clock and her smile slipped. They had been having so much fun she’d almost forgotten. “It’s nearing midnight.”

Humming softly under his breath, his eyes fixed on the little hand as it followed its path around the clock.

“When midnight comes…” the words stuck in her throat.

“When midnight comes, the loop will restart,” he finished with a heavy sigh. “The day will begin as it did this morning, everything will be the same.”

“Not everything,” she corrected softly.  _ Not me. _

The ticking of the clock grew louder in her ears.

“Malfoy?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m...” 

The words died on her lips, _ nervous, worried, frightened. _

After a moment of hesitation, his hand covered hers and gave a comforting squeeze. “Me too.”

Her pulse skipped as she watched the hands shift into place at midnight.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco’s gaze skimmed along the spines on the shelf in front of him, searching for a familiar tome with a red spine and gold lettering. There was a glaring space on the shelf where the book usually sat.

“ _ Pssst _ .”

He frowned, looking around for the source of the noise. 

A flash of brunette curls caught his attention and he found himself following the soft footsteps through the library, seeing only glimpses of his mysterious caller before she disappeared around another corner. 

Finally, the woman stopped in a dark area of the library that he hadn’t seen before and she came into view.

“Looking for this, Malfoy?” Hermione asked, a smirk dancing on her lips as she dangled the thick text in front of his face before snatching it away.

“Granger, I need that book for class,” he muttered, taking a step towards her.

In the dark of the library, her features grew clearer as his eyes adjusted. She was wearing a green top with lettering that was far too large for her small frame, and he took another step closer. 

Twisting around, she balanced on her tiptoes and placed the tome on an unused shelf. He caught the word printed in thick silver between her shoulder blades.

_ Malfoy _ .

Struggling to swallow, he moved forward until she was standing sandwiched between him and the bookcase. 

She lowered herself back down to her heels, still facing away. Suddenly, her back arched, and he felt the curve of her arse brush against his growing erection. 

Tilting his head back, he groaned, his fingers itching to grab her hips and pull her to him.

“Granger,” he rasped, his hand brushing across the lettering of his surname. “Why are you wearing my jersey? It makes you look like—”

“—I’m yours,” she finished his sentence, shifting backward until his cock slotted against her arse. “It makes me look like I’m  _ yours _ .”

His hands reached forward tentatively, skating across the cotton jersey until they landed on the dip of her hips. 

She placed her hands over his and pulled them lower, under the hem and onto bare skin. His jaw slackened when he realised she was completely bare under his jersey. 

“Mmm,” she groaned low in her chest, pushing her arse against his throbbing erection. “I can feel how much you want me. Stop teasing and take me.”

“Why are you doing this?” His hands trailed upward, unable to resist the way she arched into his touch. He palmed her breasts, kneading them gently and brushing his thumbs over her nipples, drawing them into hardened peaks.

With a breathy moan, she turned to face him and whispered, “Because, Draco, I am yours.”

His bleary eyes struggled to focus as he squinted and looked around his empty dorm room.

“Fuck.” 

The clock read five a.m. and he knew Hermione wouldn’t be awake for at least another hour. He pushed the covers off of his body and glanced down. His cock was red and weeping, straining for the witch who was sleeping in the next room, blissfully unaware of the fantasies that plagued him.

Trying to recall the details from his dream, he closed his eyes again. 

As he wrapped a hand around his hard cock, he slowly began to pump himself, imagining the look in her eyes as she stared up at him, her back pressed against the bookcase. Groaning, he thought of capturing her lips with his, of feeling his hand drift lower to find her soaked and aching for him.

_ “Draco, don’t stop,” she whimpered, rocking against him as her hand cupped his erection, massaging him through his trousers. Her walls clenched around his fingers as he pumped into her at a steady pace. She shifted her weight, spreading her thighs further and looping her arms around his neck, leaning against the wooden bookcase for support. “I need you. I can’t wait any longer.” _

In his mind, he removed his fingers from her core and pushed his trousers down before lifting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist.

_ Her breathy moans filled his ears as he slowly pushed into her, stretching her tight cunt. _

His cock jumped in his hand and his hips lifted with each thrust into his palm.

_ She breathed his name as he dragged his cock against her inner walls before pushing back in, her tits bouncing with each thrust, covered by his jersey. “I’m so close, don’t stop,” she begged, her nails dragging along his back as his fingers tightened their grip on the soft flesh of her hips. _

“Fuck, Hermione,” he mumbled into his room. His cock began to throb and his head lolled to the side as he imagined her walls squeezing him, her gasps filling the air.

With a shuddered breath, his entire body tensed before he came undone, his cock pulsing in his hand with his release.

A quick  _ Scourgify _ later, he shuffled across his room into the loo and splashed cold water on his face, trying to wake up. 

After weeks of living the same day over and over again, he had been overwhelmed by the relief he felt when he realised that he didn’t have to be alone anymore. The possibility that she would forget the loop lingered, causing a pang of fear in his chest. 

Draco dressed and made his way into the empty common room, mentally preparing himself for Hermione to wake up. The minutes crept by at an impossibly slow pace as he watched the clock. He finally gave in and began preparing a pot of tea, not only because drinking tea calmed him but because he needed something to occupy his mind while he waited.

While nursing his cuppa at the kitchen table, his eyes fixed on the Head Girl door. The first day of the loop, he recalled the way he had smiled at her and the curious look she had given him in return, completely unaware of the way she had opened up to him the night before. 

He wasn’t sure he could live through that again, feeling as though nothing had any meaning when he was the only one who remembered it the next day. It had been easier for him to agitate her during a day in the loop, rather than tell her what he wanted to say, knowing she would forget.

One of the floorboards creaked, the sound coming from her room, and his heart stopped. Jumping from his seat, he began to pace, unable to sit still when the next few minutes of his life could determine his ability to leave the loop.

“Malfoy?”

Coming to a halt, he turned and looked up at the open door of the Head Girl dorm, where Hermione Granger was standing in a silk robe, her arms crossed tightly around her midsection.

He swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “Granger.”

As she worried her lower lip between her teeth in that particular way she did when she was nervous, her eyes were wide. “I remember the loop, do—” she cleared her throat and bunched the silk at her sides between her hands “—do you?”

All the tension he had been carrying released at once and his shoulders sagged with relief. “I could never forget the way you survived a deadly book attack.” 

He fought back a laugh at the way her nose scrunched.

“Be careful or I might convince Gary to make a visit to the window outside your room,” she quipped, the corner of her mouth curving upward.

“You’ve already given away his weakness — all I have to do is start throwing roast chickens out of the window and he will be distracted from his homicidal squid agenda.”

Covering her mouth with her hand, she tried to stifle her giggles. “The mental image of you pelting him with full roast chickens like snowballs is enough incentive for me to at least try to persuade Gary to make a home visit.”

He couldn’t stop grinning and wanted to see more of her smile. “I have a stockpile prepared in my room, just in case.”

Glancing down at herself, she wiggled her bare toes and made a face. “I should probably get dressed for the day then.”

“Up to you — you could go starkers and no one would remember tomorrow.”

With a roll of her eyes, she rested her hands on her hips in indignation. “ _ You _ would remember.”

His lips tugged into a smirk. “Go get dressed, Granger. I have a cuppa waiting for you when you’re ready. I know you’re a terror on an empty stomach.”

At his phrasing, she blinked once and he felt his stomach turn. Clearly she hadn’t realised he had memorised her morning routine. He almost corrected himself but, before he could, she gave him a shy smile and went back into her room, closing the door gently behind her.

Several minutes later, she emerged wearing her uniform as if it were a regular day. 

“Are we going to class?” she asked as she descended the stairs and gratefully accepted the cup of tea he offered. “I don’t see the purpose, knowing that we won’t learn anything new from the lesson today.”

“I’ve only gone to class a handful of times since the loop started. Yesterday was an exception; Slughorn caught me in the dungeon corridor and I couldn’t talk my way out of it. He escorted me to the lesson.”

As she took a long sip of tea, her brows knitted together and the pair sat at the kitchen table together. “Why didn’t you say you were ill?”

“Tried that in the first week,” he replied with a heavy sigh, recalling the day he wasted in the infirmary. “Madam Pomfrey gave me a sleeping draught and the entire day was a wash.”

“Depending on the professor, you could fabricate a reason for missing class, perhaps something Head Boy related?”

“Tried it.”

“And?”

He tapped his fingertips on the kitchen table. “You were there to point out that there was, in fact, no Head-related duty pulling me from class.”

Grimacing, she muttered, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, really. I know where just about every single professor is at this time of day so we can avoid running into them in the corridors. I’ve had plenty of experience.”

“So, we’ve read library books, what now?” she asked, bringing the teacup up to meet her lips for another drink. “Do we go talk to Dumbledore?”

He waved a hand dismissively, annoyance bubbling under his skin at the mention of the Headmaster. “Not helpful. I’ve tried it twice, actually. The old coot thinks Hogwarts is doing this for a reason, said I would figure out the purpose in time.”

Under her breath, she hummed softly. “Okay, so you’ve tried talking with the Headmaster, you’ve read all the books available in the library—anything else?”

“Well, I did find an old bracelet in the family vault that belonged to an ancestor who was rumoured to have a proclivity for time travel. That was yesterday. I’ve been running low on ideas and I thought it might help with the loop.”

“What happened?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Though green _ is _ my colour, the bracelet did nothing but make me look fabulously wealthy.”

Her eyes widened and dropped to the cup between her hands. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she looked embarrassed. “Oh.”

“What?”

“I just—when I saw it in the common room I thought it was…” she faltered, still not lifting her gaze.

He tilted his head slightly, inspecting the way her body language shifted. “You thought it was what?” he prompted, his curiosity piqued.

“A gift for your girlfriend,” she mumbled, her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Or perhaps something she had left in the common room from an earlier visit.”

The thumping of his heart grew louder in his chest as he realised the reason behind her reaction. “Is someone  _ jealous _ ?” he teased, feeling his smirk grow at the words. 

An adorable wrinkle appeared above her nose, the way it did whenever she was working on a particularly difficult subject. 

“Envious.”

“What?”

“The word you’re looking for is envious,” she corrected, her head tipping up slightly. “It’s a common mistake.” Her voice took on the tone she used when she was teaching the Prefects. “Envy is wanting something that someone else has, like an expensive bracelet. Jealousy would only make sense if I was afraid someone would take what was already mine.”

As he carefully considered his next words, time seemed to slow down. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“You don’t?” She stilled. “But I heard—”

“No. I’m not with anyone.” He thought of the betrothal contract and hesitated before amending, “I sort of was, but now I’m not.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh’.” He raised his eyebrows at the way her shoulders seemed to relax under the realisation. Unable to resist flustering her further, he added, “So, Granger, jealous?”

“You mean envious,” she all but whispered, her cheeks starting to flush.

His gaze lingered on her blush. “Sure, Granger.”

Her chair scraped against the stone flooring as she hopped to a standing position. “Your family has a private library, right? I’m sure you’d have unique texts that are unavailable in the castle. Have you looked there?” she spoke quickly, collecting the empty teacups and platters and carrying them over to the sink.

“You want to come home with me?”

Dishes slipped from her hands and landed in the sink, creating a loud clatter. “To your library — we should see what resources you have available. I bet you were onto something with trying the bracelet. You could have access to magical heirlooms or personal journals.”

Standing up from his seat, he looked pointedly at the clock. “The last time I was able to sneak out of the castle, I had to use Slughorn’s fireplace which is connected to the Floo network. When he caught me yesterday, he was headed back into the dungeons in approximately...forty minutes. We should leave now.”

The pair made their way through the castle and down to the dungeons, Draco leading the way, using only the corridors he knew to be clear of professors. 

“Not there — turn left and we will go the long way. Babbling is carrying a pile of scrolls she borrowed from Snape and will ask us to help her carry them to class if you go down that hall.”

She followed him without argument and they slipped into Slughorn’s office moments later. “How many days did it take you to figure out everyone’s schedule?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“Too many. I’ve listened to that damn lecture on the Hogwarts Founders so many times I could repeat it in my sleep.” He reached for the pouch of Floo Powder to the right of the fireplace, gathering a handful before joining Hermione in the empty fireplace. “You ready?”

Humming her agreement, she shifted closer to him as the powder fell through his fingers.

“Malfoy Manor.” A flash of green flames whisked them away.

As they stepped out of the hearth and into the receiving room at Malfoy Manor, the familiar tingle of ancestral wards passed over him.

The Manor was eerily quiet; the only sounds were their footsteps as they traversed the long halls. 

“Wow,” Hermione marveled under her breath, staring at the portraits that lined the walls as Draco led her to the library entrance. “I can’t believe you grew up here. This place looks like a palace.”

“The Manor was a gift to Armand Malfoy from William the Conqueror. You don’t want to know what he did to warrant a gift like that from someone with the nickname of ‘the Conqueror’.” He paused in front of a pair of tall double doors. “Here we are, the Malfoy library.”

The doors opened with a resounding groan. Light flooded through the room from the large window that spanned the back wall of the library. Standing to the side, he fought back a grin as he watched Hermione cross over the threshold and gasp. 

“Oh my god! Malfoy! Oh my god, this is your library?!” She twirled in place, looking upwards at the bookcases that filled the room and lined the magically expanded walls. “I would never leave—how did  _ you _ ever leave this? This has to be larger than even the library at school!”

“It is,” he replied with a smirk, trailing several feet behind her as she began to weave through the aisles. “It has a search system, if you’re interested.”

She turned the corner behind a bookcase and her head popped into view as she leaned around the shelf. “ _ If I’m interested? _ ” she scoffed as if the question was ridiculous. “Obviously I’m interested.”

“How dare I even ask!” He laughed at the expression on her face just before she disappeared again. “Just mention what you need and it’ll pull the relevant books for your request.”

“Books on Time Loops.” He heard her declaration, her voice fading from distance. 

One by one, books began to shuffle out of various bookcases around the room and float towards Hermione. He followed a book as it moved across the room, finding her settled in a red plush chair next to the window. A pile of tomes was forming beside her. “Making yourself at home, I see?”

“I love your library.”

“I expected nothing less.”

“I’m never leaving and you can’t make me. I live here now.”

He summoned a nearby chair into the space next to hers and sat down. “The loop will reset, Granger. It won’t let you stay here forever.”

Pushing a wayward curl behind her ear, she huffed softly and grumbled something unintelligible under her breath as she lifted the top book from the stack between their chairs. He quickly followed suit, taking a dense tome with a faded blue binding. 

As she skimmed, he stared at the way her lips moved without words, following along with the text. Suddenly, she reached into her pocket and retrieved a hair tie. She piled her curls atop her head in a messy fashion and secured it in place with the band. 

“Find anything?” she asked, her eyes flying up to him while her hand rested on the page to hold her place.

He turned his attention to the book in his hands that he had completely ignored until this very second. “Oh...um...nothing yet.” Quickly, he flipped the page as if he had been reading.

“Should we be worried about your parents coming home and finding us in here?” She pursed her lips, her grip on the book tightening slightly.

“They’re in Italy this week and won’t be back until the 8th.”

She nodded once and ran her finger around the corner of the hard cover, thinking.

They set to work, quickly making their way through the selected texts and sharing any valuable information as they found it. Just after noon, Draco called his house-elf, Xander, to bring them a platter of food for lunch, which Hermione gratefully scarfed down. 

Xander whispered in his ear and he waved him off. “I know, Xander.”

“What was that about?” she asked, peeking over the top of her book.

“Don’t worry about it, Granger.” He certainly wasn’t going to admit that his house-elf was telling him how pretty she was, even if he agreed.

A few more hours passed before she abruptly turned to him and closed her book. “Why are they in Italy?”

“Their second home is in Italy. They had their honeymoon in Venice and purchased a home to visit throughout the year when the weather is nice.”

“That’s so romantic,” she sighed into the words.

He shrugged. “Mother said it was the first time she felt a spark with my Father. It’s her favourite place and he bought the house to make her happy.”

“The first time your mum realised she liked your dad was on their  _ honeymoon _ ?” She sounded incredulous.

“It was an arranged marriage, they were engaged before they even left Hogwarts. It was a contract between my grandfathers. Mother said Father gave her a ring between classes, one that my grandmother had picked out.”

A tense silence filled the air between them before she asked, “Are they going to do that for you, too?” 

The way she looked at him made his chest hurt. 

“I don’t want that,” he replied honestly, evading her question.

“It must be difficult, living with so many expectations.”

“It’s been that way my entire life,” he admitted. “Did you at least find something useful today?”

She hesitated before answering, as if she wanted to continue the previous topic. “I think the experiment documented in the book that bit me has merit — using the sand from a Time-Turner to create an enchanted circle. The problem is that we’re missing part of the equation; it’s impossible to solve this without knowing the catalyst for the loop.”

“The Time-Turner magic functions differently than the loop, plus I haven’t been in contact with any Time-Turners in the last month—have you?”

With an exasperated harumph, she frowned. “No.”

“Should we make our way back to the castle? We can probably catch supper in the Great Hall still, though you’d have to explain why you were mysteriously absent for classes today.”

“I’d rather eat supper with you, if you don’t mind.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest from her admission and he stood up from the chair, stretching his aching muscles. “Let’s go back to the castle and then we can talk through how we are going to steal a Time-Turner to try out your idea.”

Her eyes lit up with excitement as she joined him. “It can’t hurt. I mean, I think Professor McGonagall has one in her office that we can borrow to remove the sand.”

“At this rate, I’ll try just about anything.”

As they made their way back to the fireplace, she continued to ramble her theories. By the time they reappeared in Slughorn’s office, he wasn’t sure she had taken a breath in several minutes.

Somehow, they managed to leave the dungeons without running into Slughorn, which Draco was grateful for.

“What sounds good for supper? I was thinking curry, I’ve been craving naan bread all day! We could try...” Hermione’s voice trailed off and Draco followed her line of sight to a group of Slytherins who were walking to the Great Hall together. Astoria Greengrass was openly glaring at Hermione, turning her nose up at her before looking to her sister Daphne.

“Naan sounds delicious,” Draco hurriedly answered, hoping she wouldn’t ask about the odd exchange. “Want me to call Xander? Or should we raid the kitchens?”

“You don’t…” she sighed, her lips curving downward. “You don’t have to have supper with me, if you’d prefer to spend time with your mates. I know we’ve spent a lot of time together today and you’d probably like a break—”

“—Granger,” he interrupted. “I promise, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

She gave him an easy smile. “We don’t always have to be Granger and Malfoy, you know.”

Feigning shock, he asked, “Are you going to start calling me  _ Draco _ ?”

“That depends, am I  _ Hermione _ ?”

“You’re Granger, you’ve always been Granger,” he argued, wondering what his given name would sound like on her lips.

“Well, then maybe one day you’ll like me enough to call me Hermione.”

His mouth opened to reply, but the words stayed in his mind. 

Lacing her fingers through his, she gave his arm a quick tug. “Come on, then, let’s make the best of the remainder of our night together. Race you to the kitchens?”

“You think you can outrun me?”

Nodding seriously, she answered, “Oh, I have an obscene amount of confidence for someone with my complete lack of coordination or physical prowess.”

“Do I get a medal if I win?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well,  _ Granger _ , I formally accept your invitation and look forward to your inevitable but devastating defeat.”

At his declaration, she dropped his hand and took off into a dead sprint down the hall, a peal of laughter escaping her. He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his cheeks as he rushed after her. 

In that moment, he’d gladly relive this same day for an entire year as long as he could spend it all with her.


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks into their research, Draco slammed his tome shut and turned to Hermione with a heavy sigh. “We’ve been researching too much.”

“Impossible.”

“Granger, we haven’t made any progress and everything we write down is wiped the next day. This is week two for you but week…” He paused, ticking his fingers up one by one as he mentally counted. The weeks had begun to blur together and with everything repeating; it was easy to lose track of time. “Six for me? Five?”

“Five,” she grumbled.

He thought back to the compounding disappointment in her eyes when the enchanted circle had failed, followed by the shattered crystal ball, and the consultation with the centaur colony in the Forbidden Forest left them with nothing of benefit. “Either way, it’s been too damn long and we need a break or we are going to go mad before we ever find a way out of this loop. We’ll be far better off on a fresh mind tomorrow than if we push ourselves more tonight.”

Her shoulders slouched, as if heavy with the weight of their week, and her gaze drifted down to the open page in front of her. “I don’t even remember if I’ve read this chapter or not,” she admitted softly. “I am growing a bit frustrated that nothing has worked. Perhaps a night off wouldn’t be the worst idea. What do you suggest?”

After hopping from the sofa into a standing position, he took her hand and pulled her up, relishing the smile she gave him. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone smiled at him like that. “That depends. What do you normally do when you have to unwind? And you can’t say anything dreadfully boring like a bubble bath, knitting a scarf, or purchasing a new book.”

“You’ll do  _ anything  _ I want?” 

His tie suddenly felt constricting, as if it were squeezing his throat. He loosened the knot and pulled it over his head, tossing it behind him onto the sofa. “It’s a consequence-free night, so you have to let loose. I’ll try anything. I can’t imagine that there’s anything you’d do that I wouldn’t.”

A sly smile pulled her lips to the side. “What time is it?”

With a quick glance at his watch, he answered, “Just over three hours to midnight.”

“Perfect, we have to hurry but I think we’ll make it in time.” She rushed over to the portrait, gesturing for him to follow her lead. “Are you a lightweight?”

The question took him by surprise. “Of course I can hold my alcohol. I’m a Malfoy—half my ancestors have spent their lives pissed and their tolerance has passed into the bloodline.” He lengthened his strides and caught up to her, his voice felt slightly tighter than usual. “Exactly where are we going?”

She smirked in reply.

Three corridors and a set of stairs later, Draco was shaking his head and trying to leave while she tugged at his arm, trying to drag him with her around the last corner. She was far too small to make him budge by force alone, but he entertained her attempts and allowed her to pull him along. “You said  _ anything _ .”

“Not this!”

“You want me to relax? This is how I relax. You’ll have fun!”

He barked out a sound that was more scoff than laugh. “Yeah, sure. You think I want to spend my night with a bunch of Gryffindors? I’m not making friends with Weasel. On the pride of my forefathers, I absolutely refuse.”

“It won’t just be Gryffindors. There are always at least a few that come from the other houses. You won’t be the only Slytherin there there,” she insisted, turning to the portrait of the Pink Lady with a demure smile. “Sugar Quills.”

The portrait swung open, revealing an empty common room with the exception of a small group gathered around the table at the back of the room. 

“Hermione! And—is that  _ Malfoy _ ?” Ginny Weasley’s eyes bulged out and she looked over at Parvati whose mouth dropped open in a dramatised fashion.

All the attention shifted to the pair as they entered the room, with Draco walking several apprehensive steps behind Hermione. He had never been in the Gryffindor Tower before tonight and was not pleased to have ruined his perfect record. Eyeing the room, he recognised nearly everyone present was from their year, with the exception of a younger Gryffindor or two.

A familiar face broke through the crowd, and Draco made a beeline for him, brushing past the Patil sisters. “Theo! What are you doing here?”

Theo was in the middle of pouring a ladle of unidentifiable liquid into a cup, but his brows lifted and he offered the glass to Draco. “Mate, fancy seeing you here. I didn’t know you and Granger were dating, though I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Draco’s eyes widened. He glanced over his shoulder to check if Hermione had overheard his comment and was grateful to see she was exchanging whispers with a smirking Ginny. He accepted the cup, looking at the amber liquid with curiosity as Theo poured a second serving into a cup for himself. Draco ducked his head and lowered his voice, “I’m not dating Granger, why would you say that?”

“Oh, but you still fancy her, right?” Theo mused, turning back to Draco with a half-smirk. “I can’t imagine another reason you’d agree to this.”

“Agree to wha—”

Harry interrupted his question by climbing up onto the table and lifting his wand in the air, with a quick flick he shot off a burst of red sparks and silenced the room. “Are you all ready for a night of Veritaserum or Dare?”

The group of students cheered and Draco froze in shock. Hermione slipped into the empty space next to him, now holding a cup of her own. Her brown eyes sparkled as she looked up at him with an encouraging smile. “Hey, you okay?”

Suppressing every instinct inside of him that was screaming to leave the room and go back to the safety of their common room, he nodded, turning his gaze back to Harry.

“To recap for newcomers, we have Hermione’s enchanted parchment where you sign your name to agree to the terms of the game. Anything that is said or done during the game stays between everyone in this room, and you don’t want to see the consequences of breaking the pact.” Harry nudged the parchment with his foot and raised his glass in a small salute to Hermione. “As always, no dares may be physically altering, permanent, or force someone into a non-consensual sexual act.”

Draco sniffed the cup and lifted it up. Just before the rim touched his lips, Hermione stopped him with a hiss. “Don’t drink—not yet. There’s a single drop of Veritaserum in the entire batch; it’s diluted enough to only work for a single round to keep the game honest.”

“Granger, this is insane.” His voice sounded higher than usual, betraying his panic. Even if no one else would remember the things he said tonight, she would.

“Scared, Malfoy?” she challenged, her chin tipping upwards at him.

He let out a tense breath and straightened his shoulders, summoning whatever idiocy he had left in him. “Of course I’m not scared of a few Gryffindors.” Before he could talk himself out of it, he made his way over to the parchment which was already half-filled with names. Dipping the quill in the nearby inkpot, he added his signature to the bottom in a loopy scrawl just below Hermione’s. 

Everyone carried their drinks and formed a circle in the centre of the common room, sitting shoulder to shoulder. He took the seat next to Hermione, silently praying to any deity who might be listening.

“I’m surprised the Head Boy and Girl are here to take part in our debauchery,” Ginny teased. “Maybe we can host it in your common room next time.”

“We could!” Hermione replied with enthusiasm. “Our common room is actually in the centre of the school. According to  _ Hogwarts a History _ , it used to be the office of the Founders. Did you know they laid the first stone of Hogwarts there?”

One by one, everyone in the circle began to boo and Harry retrieved a shot glass filled with clear liquid from the table, handing it to Hermione with a disapproving shake of his head.

Her shoulders fell and she reluctantly took the glass, knocking it back before coughing in disgust. “Ugh. Fine. I forgot the rules.”

Given the reactions of the room, Draco assumed this happened frequently during game nights, enough to have a protocol.

Harry tapped the parchment twice with his wand and Seamus’ name appeared in the air before fading. With a silly wiggle of his brows, Seamus prompted Luna, signalling the start of the game.

“Veritasereum,” Luna declared in her ethereal tone. As she took a sip, the pattern of clouds shifted across her dress, magicked to constantly be in motion. 

“Not that she needs Veritaserum to overshare,” Lisa Turpin whispered to Draco, leaning in far too close with a glint of playfulness in her eyes. Lisa’s lips were painted a bright red, and his mind wandered to Hermione’s full lips. They looked soft; he wondered if she ever wore lipstick.

Seamus donned a mischievous grin, his fingers drumming against his glass. “What is the most embarrassing situation a professor has caught you in?”

She hummed softly under her breath, tilting her head as if thinking. “Well, last year Professor Flitwick walked in while I was performing fellatio on Blaise Zabini in the spare broom closet on the fifth floor. He did look rather embarrassed, considering it was at his eye-level, though we did continue once he left.”

No one in the group looked fazed by her admission, but Draco was having a difficult time keeping a straight face. The binding magic of the game would reset when the loop did at midnight. He would  _ absolutely _ pocket this information for later.

“Granger.” He nudged her gently with his elbow. “What have you gotten me into?”

The wicked smile on her lips gave him pause.

“Draco, Veritaserum or dare,” Lisa Turpin prompted, looking up at him from behind her fluttering lashes.

His mind raced as he tried to weigh the options. A dare was a risk but he wouldn’t have to reveal any information under the truth potion. However, there were few limitations to the dares and that made him uneasy. Taking the truth serum would be unpleasant but at least everyone but Hermione would forget his answers at midnight.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you.” Lisa’s voice was syrupy sweet and flirtatious; she rested her hand on his bicep and squeezed. 

Draco saw Hermione tense from the corner of his eye. He shifted in place and reached for his drink, releasing Lisa’s hold on his arm.

“Veritaserum,” he answered, sounding more confident than he felt. 

Taking a pull from his glass, he suppressed the urge to grimace; it tasted like cheap whisky mixed with floor cleaner.

She tapped her index finger against her chin, as if pretending to mull over a question. “Are the rumours true? Do you have an engagement contract?”

A feeling of warmth filled his chest as the telltale tingle of the potion loosened his tongue. The words slipped out easily. “My father drew one up over the summer but I refused to sign it.” From his peripheral, he saw Hermione staring at him but he didn’t turn his head. Wanting to deflect the attention, he flicked a hand at Harry. “Potter, Veritaserum or dare?”

“Dare.”

Draco tried to weigh his options. It was tempting to have Harry do something humiliating, knowing he wouldn’t remember it tomorrow, but Hermione would know and they were finally starting to get along. It wasn’t worth the risk.

“I dare you to kiss the person here that you are most attracted to.” It would give Draco valuable information he could take out of the loop but nothing that was malicious enough to cause a row with the witch next to him. 

Harry’s eyes scanned the circle and his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he stood up from his seated position. His steps were slow and methodical as he passed Hermione and Draco, making his way to the opposite side of the circle. 

It was at that moment that Draco noticed the way Theo was staring up at Harry, looking like he wasn’t breathing.

Shifting down to a kneeling position, the tips of Harry’s fingers drifted along Theo’s sharp jawline before resting just below his chin, gently pressing it upwards. He murmured something under his breath and Theo nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Harry’s. The corner of his lips curved upwards just before they pressed against Theo’s.

The air was sucked out of the room as Harry crossed back over to his original seat. Theo’s lips were flushed and slightly swollen as he glanced over at Harry with a shy smile.

“Blimey,” Ron mumbled, breaking the silence. “Anyone else feel offended right about now?”

“It’s nothing personal—you’re just not my type,” Harry pushed up his glasses up the bridge of his nose and tossed a wink at Ron. “Hermione, Veritaserum or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to show us a hidden talent.”

Hermione retrieved her wand and cast a quick spell, transfiguring something from her purse into a few large round hoops. 

She stood up and stepped into the largest of the hoops, twisting it and rotating her hips. One by one, she added hoops until she had one on each arm, her waist, and a leg. The group whooped and cheered with the addition of each hoop. 

Draco watched as her eyes lit up in delight, her head tilted back with laughter and she radiated pure joy. He couldn’t look away for anything.

“It’s utterly useless, I know, but Mum and I took a class together one summer,” Hermione explained sheepishly, catching the hoops as she stopped her routine. After a small bow, she shrunk the hoops and tucked them back into her purse, taking her seat back in the circle.

A dozen rounds later and Draco had learned more about his classmates than he had in the last seven years combined.

“Ginny, Veritaserum or dare?” Theo prompted. They were several rounds in already and Draco wasn’t sure if it was the whisky but everyone was laughing and far more relaxed than they were at the start.

She waved her hand to Theo, tilting her head slightly, “Veritaserum. Give me your worst, Nott.”

“What’s the last lie you told and why?”

“I told my dormmates I was studying late in the library. I was in the library, but I was actually in the back aisles sitting on Dean’s face.”

Draco felt his brows disappear behind his fringe.

“Bloody hell, Ginny!” Ron had turned a shade of putrid green, his lips twisted up in a grimace. “I’m going to kill Dean! I can never go to the library again.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, because you go so often now.”

Ginny shrugged in an unapologetic manner. “Ron, Veritaserum or dare?”

“Dare. I’m not going to tell you anything about my sex life.”

Harry mumbled something under his breath and Ron shot him a death glare.

“I dare you to demonstrate the Erumpent mating dance to Lavender.”

One horrifying dance later, Draco was considering the merits of Obliviation when he heard his name.

“Draco, Veritaserum or dare?” Ernie asked, fresh off his dare of switching clothing with the closest person to him. He was now wearing a long sleeve pink shirt that showed off his midriff paired with fitted black bottoms, transfigured to his size. 

Padma was not pleased to be wearing Ernie’s large jumper and baggy trousers.

“Veritaserum,” he took a swig, the flavour less jarring the second time around.

“How did you get your most embarrassing injury?”

The potion did its work and he was grateful for the easy question. “Third year, I tried to impress a witch by flying upside down. I went to see if she was watching and crashed into the greenhouse. Not only did I get detention from Sprout for a week, I found out later that night that I not only bruised my ego but had broken my wrist and two ribs.”

“Who was it?” Padma asked impatiently, her legs were tucked under her and she bounced upwards with the question.

Several people started to object to the question as it was against the rules after he had taken a drink, but it had already been asked and the name was on the tip of his tongue— “Granger.”

Shit.

Hermione had been absentmindedly picking at the loose string on the sleeve of her shirt, but now she was frozen in place, her wide eyes looking up at him. His jaw worked as he avoided her gaze. 

“You know the rules, Padma, you can’t ask a question when they’ve taken a drink until their round is over!” Parvati scolded, her arms crossed in front of her. “If you get us kicked out of game nights, I’ll never forgive you.”

The unsettled feeling in Draco’s stomach grew the longer the game continued. He couldn’t even look at Hermione, afraid that she looked disgusted by his admission.

“Hermione, Veritaserum or dare?” An impish look flashed across Ginny’s face as she asked the question.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to take the person here that you fancy most, strip to your underwear together and run the loop through the corridor outside the common room and back.”

There were laughs and encouraging whistles from the group. Draco tried to swallow the lump that had formed at the thought of seeing her in nothing but her knickers. Fully expecting her to object, he nearly fell over when she stood up and began unbuttoning her shirt.

“Granger,” he hissed, his throat feeling like sandpaper. “You don’t have to do this, we can always—”

Suddenly her hand was looped around his forearm as she pulled him to stand up with her. 

“No consequences, remember?” she whispered as her nimble fingers finished the last button and she shrugged off her shirt. “You said we needed to let loose. Are you going to do this with me or not?”

The sound of his pulse filled his ears as he caught her meaning. “Me?”

She nodded, the top of her cheeks were pink and he caught a small tremble to her hands as she unclasped her skirt.

It took less than a second before he began to peel off his layers, a rush of adrenaline filling his veins.

“I’ll distract the Pink Lady,” Ernie offered, pushing the backside of the portrait open with a creak that echoed down the empty corridor. 

Draco trained his eyes in front of him; it took all his willpower not to look over at Hermione.

“Ready?” she asked, and even though he nodded, he didn’t feel ready.

With a squeal of delight, she broke into a run and he quickly followed, catching up to her in a few steps. His bare feet hit the stone flooring and a chill swept over his body. Everything sounded louder at night when the castle was asleep. He could hear every breath and step she took.

“You lot are insane,” he laughed, following her lead as they rounded a corner. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“It is so much colder than last time!”

He nearly tripped. “Bloody hell, Granger, there was a last time?!”

Hermione stopped abruptly, her hand reaching out to stop Draco from continuing along. He stumbled, trying to ignore the feeling of her bare hand resting on his abdomen. Subconsciously, he flexed his stomach muscles, hoping they felt firm beneath her touch.

Her hand grabbed his and she yanked once, catching him off balance and pulling him with her behind a tapestry in the hall. The hiding space was barely large enough for a single person, and as a result she was pressed flush against him. With each exhale, he could feel her hot breath tickling his chest. 

“It’s Filch,” she hissed, her voice barely audible.

Panic bubbled up in his chest as he felt blood start to rush downward. His eyes fixed on the stone above her head; he tried to memorise the divots and pattern, wanting to forget about the nearly naked witch in front of him. 

He had spent far too much time daydreaming a scenario exactly like this one but, instead of excitement, he felt sheer panic. If she shifted even an inch, she would feel his straining erection against her stomach.

Slow, uneven footsteps passed by the tapestry, pausing for just a moment before resuming. Draco could feel Hermione’s chest stop moving as she held her breath.

As the sounds of Filch faded, he heard her let out a sigh of relief.

“You owe me. I still can’t believe I’ve spent my night with a bunch of Gryffindors for you.” Draco couldn’t help but laugh, his chest brushing against hers with the motion.

“If we ever get out of this loop, I promise to have breakfast with you at the Slytherin table as reward for your sacrifices tonight,” she teased, her voice still soft.

He chuckled, the low timbre rumbling in his chest as his gaze traced the path of the grout next. “I think I’ll have to get out of this loop just to see that.” His voice was gravelly. “I never would’ve thought you’d do something like this, Granger.”

“It would seem that we both have a few secrets, Malfoy.”

Part of him wondered if she could hear his heart pounding; it thudded against his ribs with each harsh beat.

“It’s…” She hesitated before clearing her throat and speaking just a little louder. “You don’t have to look away. I just mean, it’s okay, if you want to—not that you  _ have _ —”

His eyes flew down to meet hers, slowly adjusting to the dark around them, and after a few beats, he could finally see her face. Her pupils were blown as she looked up at him, her curls were even more wild than usual, having been agitated by running, her cheeks were stained red and her chest rose and fell with quick breaths.

She looked up at him with a silent question in her eyes.

It might’ve been the whisky or just the way she looked at him, but his resolve crumbled. He would worry about his family another day. One hand slid into her curls, cradling her head, and the other tentatively rested on her bare waist. Her hair was softer than he had imagined it would be, and her skin felt hot under his hand. He nearly groaned with the way she leaned into his touch.

The smell of jasmine and honey flooded his senses, like it had the day they shared the Invisibility Cloak.

He wanted nothing more in this moment than to kiss her.

His thumb brushed against the soft skin of her neck and he watched her lips part slightly, her head tilted up towards him—

Blinding light filled the room and Draco’s eyes opened just a sliver. He was back in his bed, nestled beneath the silk covers. Memories of the night before flooded back and he threw his head back onto his pillow with a groan.

Fucking midnight.


	5. Chapter 5

A soft knock at Hermione’s door stirred her from her dream. It had been the best sort of dream, one of the Gryffindor game night, a hiding spot, a stolen kiss with Draco Malfoy, an unclasped bra, and his soft lips—

The pounding on the door grew slightly louder.

“Just a minute!”

She slipped out from under the covers and pulled on a silk robe over herself, tying the knot in front of her before opening the door.

Draco Malfoy stood in her doorway, still wearing his pyjamas and holding a tray filled with a variety of breakfast foods. 

The way his face lit up when she opened the door caused a flurry of butterflies in her stomach. It had been hours since their almost kiss and she still hadn’t recovered. “Sorry to wake you, but I am exhausted from having the same conversation every morning at the breakfast table with Blaise and Theo, and I thought perhaps you might agree.”

“Theo talks about his hair far too much and don’t get me started on Blaise and his conspiracy theories around the black market for flobberworms and their correlation to Muggle UFOs,” she teased, eyeing a chocolate pastry on the platter in his arms. Her mouth watered at the smell and her stomach gave the impression of a whale mating call, echoing its interest in the food. “I’d love some new company at breakfast.” 

She happily followed Draco back down the stairs to their common room where they settled at the kitchen table. He served her first, placing the chocolate pastry on her plate with a quick smile before taking a portion of eggs benedict for himself.

“So, you survived your first game night at Gryffindor Tower.”

Half-choking on his bite of egg, he looked at her with wild eyes. “ _ First _ game night? That would imply I will attend future game nights when they can actually recall I was there.”

A pitcher of pumpkin juice sat in the middle of the table and she poured them each a glass. Sipping at her juice, she raised her brows. “You have to admit that you had fun—you saw Ron dance for Lavender!”

He shuddered and his face contorted into a grimace. “Please, don’t remind me. I haven’t had enough coffee to work through the trauma. I’d send him the bill to my future mind healer session but I know he couldn’t afford it.”

Cocking her head, she tossed him a look and scolded, “Draco—”

“Fine,” he admitted, ripping off a piece of toast and dipping it into his egg yolk. “It wasn’t the  _ worst _ way to spend the night. It reminded me of the game nights in Slytherin, except no one nearly died, but there’s always room for improvement.”

“So, you’d come back with me sometime? Whenever we end the loop?” she asked, feeling slightly insecure about the question. She bit into her pastry, trying to calm her racing pulse.

Silver eyes flicked up to meet hers and the corner of his lips twitched. “If anyone could convince me, it would be you.”

Draco’s Ancient Runes textbook was resting on the edge of the table with his parchment and quill on top, just as he had left it the night before the loop began. “Is it odd that I almost miss attending class?” she asked, tracing the letters of the title  _ Advanced Rune Translation _ with her index finger. His laugh surprised her and she rolled her eyes with a grin. “Ha-ha, very funny. I set myself up for that, didn’t I?”

“I wouldn’t believe you were Granger otherwise. I’d believe you were a thousand sentient Flobberworms controlling a human skin suit in order to harness magic.”

“Blaise should lay off the Firewhisky and late night talks with Luna,” she snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. “I think they’re a bad influence on the other.”

“Oh Granger, you’re far too innocent if you think they actually  _ talk  _ when they’re together.”

A blush rose high on her cheeks as she pushed away her plate and picked up his quill, twirling it between her fingers. “Goodness. Even if I miss having new lectures, I have to say it has been nice to not have to worry about Head responsibilities for a while.”

“Hermione Granger,” he gasped in faux shock. “Have my ears deceived me or did you just say you’ve enjoyed skiving off?”

She stuck out her tongue before repeating his words from their first day in the loop back to him. “If you tell anyone, I’ll say you’re lying.” 

“Be careful with that quill,” he warned, but the way he smiled and tilted his head told her he was just teasing. “It belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself.”

Pausing, she glanced down at the quill in her hand. It looked rather ordinary at first glance—a plain black quill just like the one she used every day in class—but upon further inspection, she noticed the etching of a rune she didn’t recognise at the base. “Why do you have a quill from Slytherin?”

He shrugged, retrieving his wand from his robe and vanishing the remaining food from the table but leaving the glasses. “My father gifted it to me after I was sorted into Slytherin, said that I was continuing the family legacy.”

“He gave an eleven-year-old boy a historic relic for  _ schoolwork _ ? This should be in a museum! Or at the very least a protected vault, not jostled around in a bag and used for essays.”

“Granger, it’s just a quill.”

She shook her head, feeling her agitation grow. “You don’t understand, it’s not  _ just a quill _ . I think sometimes you forget not everyone came from a family like yours where they could afford to give magical heirlooms that are thousands of years old to children.”

The pained look that crossed his face almost made her feel guilty. “What was it like?”

“What?”

“Growing up in the Muggle world.”

With a shrug, she traced the rim of her glass with her finger as a smile tugged at her lips. “I had a great childhood. My dad loves old black and white films and singing along with the radio, and my mum quotes poetry and kills every plant she tries to grow but still buys them year after year. They read me books every night before bed and let me sleep with them during thunderstorms.”

He took a long drink of his pumpkin juice and gave her a soft smile. “They sound lovely.”

“They really are wonderful parents. They were so supportive when the letter came—and in hindsight it answered so many questions they had about me. But I could tell they were heartbroken that I was leaving for school, leaving them already. They have cried every single year at King’s Cross.”

“I can’t imagine,” he admitted. “I mean, I can imagine having overly-involved parents but Pureblood parents aren’t the same as what you’re describing. Mother gardens and Father collects aged whisky but they always encouraged me to grow up quickly and take on family responsibilities. They’ve been planning my marriage since before I could walk.”

The question spiraled in her mind until she blurted it out. “Who was your engagement contract with?” She felt her cheeks heat up as she clarified, “The one you mentioned during game night.”

Draco stilled and several moments passed in silence.

“You don’t have to—“

“Astoria Greengrass,” he mumbled, passing his now empty glass between his hands and not looking up.

Her brow wrinkled. “Daphne’s sister?” She thought of the petite blonde with icy blue eyes, perfectly poised at all times, her laugh like a bell tinkling. A knot of jealousy formed in her stomach, thinking about Draco holding Astoria’s waist like he had held hers the night before, leaning in for a kiss.

“What are you thinking about?” His question pulled her from her thoughts.

“I haven’t talked to her before, but I don’t think she likes me,” Hermione replied, sidestepping his question.

His lips twisted and he just said, “Oh.”

“What?”

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he shifted in his seat. “She, uh… She thinks that you’re the reason that I refused the contract this summer.”

She laughed. 

He didn’t. 

“But I wasn’t,” she probed, her smile faltering. “Right?”

He winced. “Not...not  _ entirely _ .”

White noise filled her ears and she thought she had misheard him.

His steel grey eyes met hers, looking suddenly serious. “What would you have done? If you had been the one to wake up in the loop and I was the one forgetting you day to day?”

“What?” she asked, her throat impossibly dry. She took another drink of pumpkin juice, hoping he didn’t notice the slight tremble of her hands.

“What would you say to me?” His voice was low. “If you knew I wouldn’t remember it tomorrow?”

After a moment, she placed her glass back on the table and shifted her body to face him more fully. “I would tell you that you’re brilliant. That you’re kind, and you’re funny, and you make a fantastic cuppa. You notice the little things, like my study schedule, or how I take my tea with two sugars, or how I’m grumpy before I have food in the morning. If I had the chance, I’d tell you that I’ve seen who you are, and that you are so much more than I had thought you would be.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that outside of the loop?”

“Why would you refuse an engagement because of me?”

Leaning his head back with a sigh, he explained, “I knew if I was going to spend a lifetime with someone, it would have to be different than it was with her. It would  _ feel  _ different. I knew I would regret it for the rest of my life if I signed that contract.”

“How does that have anything to do with me?” she whispered, unsure if she wanted the answer.

His lips quirked with a soft smile and she felt her pulse quicken. “Because, Granger, it feels different with you.”

Her breath caught and his eyes searched hers, looking for something she couldn’t name.

She didn’t know who moved first, but all at once, the chairs shifted, their legs scraping against the stone floor, and she half stumbled into his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. 

She felt him tense beneath her.

Almost instantly, she pulled back, panic flooding her system. “I’m sorr—”

“No,” he murmured, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist as he lifted her onto the table effortlessly. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered his book and quill falling to the floor. “Don’t apologise, don’t pull away, don’t think.” 

His lips captured hers in a soul-searing kiss. One of his hands stole into her curls and the other gripped her lower waist, bunching up the silk of her robe. She felt dizzy under his touch, her hands drifting down from around his neck to fist the soft white fabric of his t-shirt. With an impatient tug, she pulled him closer to her.

Nipping at her lower lip, his tongue brushed against the seam of her mouth, causing a flood of heat to rush through her veins. He tasted like liquid fire, scorching her soul.

He gently nudged her knees apart, slotting himself between her thighs. His body was deliciously hard against her and she let out an involuntary whimper against his lips. In response, Draco groaned and his hand twisted in her curls, drawing her back and breaking the kiss. 

“Gods, you taste like chocolate.” He rested his forehead against hers, watching her with blown pupils and flushed cheeks. “It’s not even fair. I never stood a chance.” 

Her stomach somersaulted as she released his shirt and looped her arms back around his neck.

“We should slow down.” He squeezed his eyes shut as if the words themselves were painful. “I just can’t think around you.”

“No!” she exclaimed, feeling her face flame at her lack of filter. “Don’t think. Don’t stop.” 

His thumb grazed her cheek and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.

As she leaned back in, she watched his eyes open wide. 

“Gods, how can I say no to you?” he breathed against her lips.

His hands slipped down to her arse and he lifted her up off the table, making her squeak as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She felt herself melt into him, his arms tightening around her as he carried her across the room, up the short flight of stairs, and through the door to his bedroom.

Leaning forwards, he gently released her from his hold, setting her down on the covers of his freshly made bed. Propping herself up on her elbows, her eyes landed on the thick bulge tenting his pyjama bottoms and she subconsciously licked her lips.

“Why not my room?” she teased, tearing her eyes away and looking up at his face.

“I’ve imagined you in my bed a thousand times, Granger.” His voice was low and husky as he crawled between her legs, pushing her thighs apart until his straining cock was pressing against the thin material covering her core. “We can go to your bed next time.”

_ Next time _ . It felt like a promise.

Anticipation built low in her belly as he murmured, “Please, don’t deny me this.”

At that moment, she couldn’t imagine denying him anything.

He lowered his lips to hers, rolling his hips in time with the kiss. Anchoring her heels into the mattress, she arched upwards to meet his movements. Her fingers flexed, running up his chest and around his shoulders to his back.

She never hated clothing as much as she had at that second. She needed  _ more _ .

The air in the room shifted and his gaze traced her, shifting from her eyes, to her lips, down the hollow of her throat to the low dip of her camisole. He kissed her again, this time slower, and she could tell that he wanted to take his time with her, to savour her. 

Every touch of his lips felt positively  _ indulgent _ . 

His fingertips ghosted over her curves, memorising every inch of her, as if they had nothing but time—and she supposed that they did. 

As they explored each other, time lost its meaning, their tongues tangling together and their hands wandering freely.

Dragging her nails down his covered back, her hands caught at the edge of his shirt and slipped under. With a soft groan, he broke their kiss just long enough to tug off the offending garment and toss it haphazardly to the floor. 

Under her fingertips, his skin was soft as silk. Hermione touched every inch he’d revealed, enjoying the feel of him moving on top of her. The sound he made as her hands caressed his bare skin made arousal shoot through her like a burst of magic.

“Please,” she heard herself beg, though she hadn’t consciously decided to speak.

There was a gentle tug at her waist, and he stared into her eyes as he slowly unraveled the knot of her robe. His throat bobbed with a harsh swallow and his gaze lowered, finding her nipples straining against the thin fabric of her top. “Fuck, Granger, you’re going to kill me.”

“Don’t think,” she reminded him, taking his hand from her hip and resting it just under the hem of her top, hoping he would take the invitation to go further.

Sucking in a low breath, he kissed her with more urgency, his hand drifting upwards before pausing just below the swell of her breast. She felt his fingers tighten in a bid for self-control. Rotating her hips, she ground herself against his erection, desperate for the friction. 

A jolt of electricity ran through her when his thumb brushed over her taut nipple, teasing it further, his hand cupping the weight of her breast.

Both of his hands were under her shirt now and the fabric bunched upward, exposing her navel. The October air was chilled but her skin felt hot under his touch. She arched her back sharply off the bed, eager to press herself further into his palms.

His head dipped, pressing a kiss to her lips, then her jaw, shifting to the soft skin of her neck, suckling at the pulsepoint. Tilting her head, she gave him better access, her hands slipping into his hair as his lips caressed her skin. 

She knew his ministrations would leave claiming bruises along her neck, and she felt a wave of disappointment that they would disappear as soon as the loop restarted. 

Perhaps she could convince him to put them back tomorrow, and the next day, and every day after that.

Trying to push away thoughts of the impending loop, she nudged him off of her and divested herself of her pyjamas and robe, tossing them over the edge and leaving her bare except for her knickers. His eyes darkened as they skated down her body, heating her with his gaze. She watched his chest shudder with an uneven breath, a ravenous expression on his face.

After a single beat, he followed suit, pushing the waist of his loungers down his hips and kicking them off before settling between her legs again. Without the thick material of his pyjamas, his erection was even more prominent.

Just as she was considering the best way to proceed, he leaned down and flicked her nipple with his tongue, gently rolling the other between his fingertips. His tongue laved against her, swirling and suckling until she was scraping her nails against his scalp, keening. 

“You’re so soft,” he whispered, his hands lifted and pushed her breasts together. “You fit in the palm of my hand perfectly.” As he dropped kisses on the swells, his thumbs circled her taut nipples.

Next, his fingertips ghosted across the scrap of lace between her thighs and grazed up her slit, avoiding her clit. She shifted impatiently, his touch was too light to relieve her ache. 

Draco’s index finger trailed upwards and traced the waistband of her lace knickers, his head raising long enough to look at her for permission. 

“God, yes. Absolutely yes.” She nodded frantically, too overcome with longing to be shy. She closed her eyes and tossed her head back, canting her hips upward, waiting for the feeling of his fingers. A few seconds later, he still hadn’t moved. She frowned and her eyes opened in confusion.

The feeling of hot breath tickled her thigh and she gasped, her hips squirming from the sensation. He had shifted down the bed and was now trailing kisses up her inner thigh towards her centre. His hands rested on the insides of her thighs, spreading them further apart and holding them firmly in place. 

He pressed a single kiss to the scrap of lace between her legs and she clenched in anticipation. His thumb drew slow, easy circles on her inner thigh. 

“ _ Diffindo _ ,” he whispered, and she felt her knickers fall away, leaving her exposed. He sucked in a sharp breath. “You have such a pretty cunt. So wet for me already.” 

His tongue circled her clit, teasing her with heavy deliberate strokes. A hand drifted up to tease her aching nipples, tormenting her with his gentle touches. He closed his lips around her swollen clit, sucking and eliciting a desperate whimper. Every flick of his tongue brought her closer to mind-numbing bliss. 

“Malfoy,” she keened, her breath trembling as she tangled her fingers in his hair, “you have to go harder—faster.”

She heard the smirk in his voice as he replied, “Patience, love. We have all the time in the world.” 

A single finger slid into her heat and she arched, moaning softly under her breath. His fingers were longer and far thicker than hers; she clenched as he entered her and she felt him pause.

“ _ Fuck _ , Granger.” His voice came out strangled, and his gaze was fixed on the point where their bodies connected, watching as his finger slipped in and out. “You’re so tight. Your perfect, pretty cunt clenching around my finger. Do you want another?”

She choked out a whimper and her grip in his hair tightened.

“You’re going to have to ask, love.”

“Please,” she begged, rocking her hips to quicken the motion of his hand, grinding her clit against the heel of his palm. “Draco,  _ please _ .”

At the sound of his given name, he added a second finger, stretching her with every pump of his hand. He swore under his breath. “Say it again.”

Chasing her building release, she whimpered, “Draco, please, please. Draco—”

A low growl escaped his chest and he lifted her leg over his shoulder, pulling her closer to him. His fingers were moving frantically now, his lips sucking at her clit as he increased his speed, drawing a series of moans out of her lips. 

He crooked his fingers, hitting that spot that made her toes curl and she bucked her hips into him—

The pulsing of her orgasm muffled the sound of her own moans, her walls fluttering in waves as she tumbled into ecstasy, whispering his name over and over again.

Catching her breath, she laid on the bed— _ his _ bed—and stared up at the ceiling, unable to move. “Bloody tease,” she panted, shifting over as he released his hold on her thighs and placed a series of lazy kisses up her body.

“ _ I’m _ the tease?” He choked out a laugh. His hands traced her curves and settled on her arse, squeezing gently. “You’ve been teasing me for years, Granger. You have no idea what you do to me.”

Having regained her senses, she flipped their positions and straddled his hips. His hands gripped her waist and guided her as she rocked against his still clothed cock. “Then tell me. Tell me more about these fantasies, Malfoy.”

“Absolutely not.”

Shifting until she was kneeling between his legs, she dragged her index finger up his straining erection, circling the head where a single bead of pre-come had soaked into the silk boxers.

His breath hitched.

“I’ll make you a deal—you tell me about your fantasies and whenever you stop talking, I stop touching.”

A beat of silence passed before he glanced down at her hand, halted at the top of his boxers. His cock twitched under the fabric.

“What do you think about?”

“You, under the covers in your bed, touching yourself,” he mumbled as if struggling with the words, his eyes darkening with desire.

She rewarded him by freeing his cock from its confines, and it took her a moment to remember to keep moving. It was longer and harder and thicker than she had imagined, and she was barely able to wrap her hand around him. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“Your fingers buried deep in your needy little cunt, your other hand massaging your swollen clit. I’d think about the sounds you would make, if you would moan or gasp or scream—” his voice was low and raspy “—the sound of my name on your lips when you came, wishing I was inside you.”

Biting back a whimper, she began to drag her hand up and down his cock in steady strokes. His hips lifted with each pump, meeting her motions, seemingly of their own volition. She licked her lips, watching as his eyes flicked between her blushing cheeks and his prick in her hand. He reached down and lazily thumbed her nipple, shooting a fresh wave of desire down to her throbbing clit.

“You, scolding me after the Prefect meeting, your face flushed and that fire in your eyes. I’d pull you into the abandoned classroom and you’d fall to your knees. I’d fist your hair and shut you up with my”—he gasped, pinching her nipple and canting his hips upward as she swirled her hand on the sensitive head of his cock—”oh fuck.”

Stopping her movements, she waited for him to continue. His words were an aphrodisiac and she found herself shifting her thighs together for release. 

“Your face in my pillow and your arse in the air, begging for my cock to fill you. The bounce of your tits as I fuck you from behind, the way you would beg for more.”

She felt the heat in her stomach grow as she rocked up and down with each thrust of her hand, her cunt clenching on nothing, aching for him.

“You, taking what you want.” He swallowed thickly. “Tying me down, riding me. The look on your face as I stretch you, fill you, make you come on my cock.”

“You want me to tie you down?” Hermione’s breaths had turned into shallow pants as she considered the prospect. The idea sent a rush of heat through her and she quickened her pace. “Want me to take what I want?”

He let out a moan from low in his throat, his eyes fluttering back. “Gods, yes.”

His eyes shot open the moment her hand left him, and she leaned over the edge of the bed to retrieve her wand from her discarded robe. Before he could question, she flicked her wand once and two Slytherin ties flew out of his wardrobe, tugging his wrists above his head and looping to form a knot.

“Is this okay?” she asked, watching him with wide eyes, waiting on bated breath for his answer.

With a quick nod, he let out a shaky exhale, his abdomen tensed, causing his cock to bounce slightly.

She placed her wand back on the ground and crawled up to meet his cock at eye-level. Placing a hand to rest on either side of his hips, she gave a tentative lick to the head, tracing the ridge with her tongue and drawing out a low hiss of approval from Draco. 

The flat of her tongue slid along the silky skin of his shaft, dragging from the base to the tip before she took his head in her mouth. 

When she swirled her tongue, he tugged at the restraints, his breathing growing heavier as he rocked upwards towards the warmth of her mouth. 

“Let me touch you again.” The plea tumbled out of his lips, and she responded by dipping her head lower, taking another inch of him into her mouth.

She began to pump the base of his cock, bobbing her head and taking as much of him as she could. 

“You take me so well, Granger,” he groaned, fighting against the silk of the ties. “I need to touch you, need to feel how wet sucking my cock makes you.”

As she continued to stroke him, she lifted her mouth long enough to reply, “You told me to take what I want. And what I want right now is to make you come in my mouth.”

She lowered herself onto him until he nudged against the back of her throat, drawing out a strangled moan, “Hermione.”

It sounded like a prayer on his lips.

Hearing her name sent a rushing sense of possessive heat through her. She twisted her hand gently at the base and began to increase her pace. When she hollowed her cheeks, the salty taste of his come coated her tongue and, from his ragged breathing, she could tell he was close.

“I don’t want anyone else, never wanted anyone else—everything—fuck, Hermione, it’s always you.” 

His hips began to thrust upwards erratically—once, twice—and then she felt him pulse as he came with a strangled grunt, his cock twitching as he rode the waves of oblivion. 

Swallowing before she had time to consider otherwise, she reached for her wand and released his binds. He immediately lunged forward, sliding his hands into her curls and cradling the base of her head, pressing a long kiss to her lips. Dropping his forehead to her shoulder, his breathing slowed and he lifted his eyes to meet hers. 

“Come here,” he murmured, collecting her in his arms and pulling her forward onto the bed to lay next to him. “You know what my favourite fantasy is?”

“What?”

“This.” He tucked her under his arm and shifted closer to her, dropping a kiss to her forehead. “Laying here in bed with you in my arms.”

She wrapped her arm around his torso, melting into his embrace.

The day passed by in a flurry of kisses and laughter. They walked around the grounds, fingers laced together as he held her hand, bringing it up to his lips each time she smiled. As the sun went down, they watched from the top of the Astronomy Tower, sitting in the open window together with her head resting on his shoulder and his arm around her waist.

“I’m  _ starved _ ,” Hermione groaned, clutching her stomach as the pair made their way through the dark corridors back to their dorm. “We should go raid the kitchens. I’m  _ dying  _ for a pizza.”

“Xander!” Draco called, just as their portrait came into view.

With a loud pop, his house-elf appeared, looking up at Draco expectantly.

“Would you be so kind as to get the lovely Head Girl a pizza? Margherita, extra basil, slightly burnt on the edges?”

Xander’s wide eyes turned to Hermione before flicking back to Draco. “She’s very pretty, Master Malfoy.”

“I know, Xander.” The corner of his lips twitched up into a shy sort of smile just as Xander disappeared and reappeared with a large silver platter and a steaming Margherita pizza that looked divine.

She felt her breath catch as she realised it must have been the same exchange that the pair had in the Manor library.

“Orgasms  _ and pizza?! _ If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were courting me,” she teased, unable to drag her hungry eyes away from the dish. “It’s the way to my heart.”

He shifted the platter to one hand and stepped aside, indicating for her to walk through the portrait first. “I’m offended—truly. When I make a courtship declaration of intent to you, it’ll be far more than just orgasms and pizza. That’s just a regular Friday night with me.”

_ When _ . 

She swallowed at the implication. 

“It’s not”—her steps faltered—“Malfoy, how did you know my favourite pizza?” she asked, the trailing end of her question disappeared behind the loud crack as Xander disappeared from the corridor behind them. “We’ve never had pizza together.”

They entered the common room and he tossed her a look as he set the pie down on the kitchen table. “Actually, we have. The first night of the loop, we sat in this room together and started working on the essays together. It was late and you were hungry so we shared a pizza.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Well, not shared as much as I ate a slice of your pizza and you yelled at me for it.”

“Oh,” she replied, momentarily distracted from food. “It’s so unsettling that we talked and I just...forgot.”

“I almost kissed you that night,” he confessed softly, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek. “The way you looked at me… Gods, your eyes, Granger. I  _ wished _ I had kissed you… Then the next day I woke up and you acted like nothing happened. I thought that I had fucked everything up, but I eventually realised my day had reset and I was stuck in the loop.” His thumb stroked her cheek in a familiar way and butterflies filled her stomach. “I suppose, in hindsight, it was for the best, otherwise you would have forgotten our first kiss.”

“That must have been so scary.” She placed her hand over his and squeezed her eyes shut for just a second before opening them back up to look at him. “You were all by yourself.”

“The night you joined the loop, I’d actually broken into the Potions’ lab and stole the Felix Felicis we made together at the end of last year. I thought it would’ve helped my luck with breaking the loop. I was lucky, though—it brought me you.”

Her brows knitted together as she processed his words. “The night you joined the loop, you were doing homework,” she repeated slowly and his hand dropped back to his side. “I was  _ also  _ writing my essay the night it started for you, but I didn’t join the loop until you took Felix Felicis. What changed? What did I do differently that night from the other nights?”

“You did everything you always had from the beginning—you came back and worked on your essay,” he replied, retrieving two plates from the cupboard and placing them on the table. “And you yelled at me.”

“Because you left rubbish all over the room! I spent my precious essay writing time cleaning up after you.”

A smirk played at his lips as he gestured to the quill and textbook on the floor under the kitchen table from their earlier dalliance. “How the tables have turned, now you’re the one leaving a mess.”

With a scoff, she lowered herself on her hands and knees, reaching under the table to collect the fallen items. Her eye caught on a carving in the stone flooring just under the table, faint enough that she had never noticed it before.

“Granger? Are you stuck?” Amusement danced in his voice.

His words blurred in her mind as she raised a trembling hand up to the carving, comparing the rune in the quill with the rune in the stone.

“Granger?”

“Draco, move the table—please.” She tried to calm the panic in her voice as it all clicked together, piece by piece.

The table shifted until a concerned-looking Draco was standing above her. 

“The night you took Felix Felicis, I picked up your stuff and I think I took your quill by accident.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she looked up at him with wide eyes. “I had to have used your quill and joined you in the loop.”

“What are you talking”—he froze—“the  _ quill _ ? How…”

“It can’t be a coincidence that when each of us used it for Ancient Runes, we entered the time loop.”

His lips moved slightly with no sound coming out, as if he were silently processing. “What was it you said at the party? This is where they laid the first stone of Hogwarts? The old office of the founders?”

Despite her nerves, she smiled. “You actually listened to me. Traditionally, a castle like this would begin with a cornerstone but due to the ancient magic embedded in the heart of Hogwarts, they began with this stone. That was the whole point of the essay from Babbling, to learn about how the founders used runes and the magical qualities of the number seven to protect the castle.”

“To protect the castle,” he echoed, his face growing pale. “Merlin, I’m so bloody thick.”

She stood to full height and her hand on his bicep. “What? You are not. What’s wrong?”

“The first night you joined the loop, do you remember me telling you to skip the first half of the  _ Magical Qualities and Theory of Time _ ?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.

“You said it was on the history of Pureblood war preparation. How would that have helped with time?”

His silver eyes locked with hers. “I think the common room is a Locus Terrore.”

“What?”

“A panic room. It was mentioned in a footnote in that chapter. The magic is  _ beyond  _ ancient, I didn’t even realise anyone still knew how to do it by the time the founders built the castle because it’s believed the magic has been lost for ten thousand years,” he marveled, running a hand through his hair in a nervous tic. “It’s honestly more legend than it is history.” 

She felt the air leave her lungs. “Slytherin’s quill, the rune in the floor... They’re the same.”

Draco nodded slowly. “It had to have been put in place by Slytherin. Purebloods have always been known for their paranoia and planning. Gods, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. It’s designed as a kind of failsafe to protect the castle in the case of a catastrophic event.”

“We triggered a time loop of ancient and incredibly powerful magic that no one has known how to conjure for thousands of years?” Her voice sounded shrill to her own ears but she couldn’t calm herself.

“It’s intended to loop the day until you can fix whatever doomsday event caused it to start in the first place. The quill had to have been enchanted to begin the loop when we used it for the essay on the rune for seven—”

“—which was built into the very heart of Hogwarts, embedded in the magic. Oh my god, that’s it!” she finished his sentence, feeling her stomach flip.

“That’s it.”

“How do you leave a Locus Terrore?”

His eyes trained on the quill, still lying on the carved run in the stone floor. “You break the key.”

She looked to the clock, two minutes to midnight.

He picked up the quill, rolling it between his fingers. “I can’t believe the answer was here the entire time.”

“There’s no other way?” she felt her heart pound against her ribcage. If they broke the quill and their theory was wrong, there was no telling what would happen. 

They could be stuck in the loop  _ forever _ .

“It was only intended for one use; the magic is really unstable, so there’s no way it would be able to…” His voice trailed off at the look on her face at the word  _ unstable _ . “Yes. It’s the only way.”

Swallowing the growing lump in her throat, she gestured to his hands. “Go ahead, I trust you.”

He hesitated just a moment.

_ Snap _ .

The pieces of the quill fell to the floor with a clatter.

Her eyes flew up to the clock, watching as the hand on the clock shifted to 12:01.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione almost couldn’t believe it as she stared at the clock, afraid to even blink. 

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice piercing the air around them. “It’s over. The loop is over.”

Suddenly, Draco’s arms were around her and he picked her up, spinning her. He placed a kiss on her forehead. “I knew you’d figure it out, my brilliant witch!”

Her chest filled with warmth as he placed her back on the ground, his arms still wrapped tightly around her waist. Resting her hands on his chest, she looked up at him and felt her heart skip at the way he looked at her.

“ _ We _ figured it out,” she corrected, sliding her fingers up the length of his chest and pulling him down for a kiss. “Also,  _ your _ witch?”

His cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink. “I didn’t mean—well—I just meant—”

A smile tugged at her lips. “I think I’m quite fond of that.”

“And I’m quite fond of you.” 

“What do we do now?” Hermione asked, thinking of all the ways their lives had changed since the loop had begun weeks ago. “Something to celebrate?”

“ _ Now _ , we go to bed.” 

She frowned and a small crease formed between her brows. “Really? That’s not much of a celebration. I’m far too excited to fall asleep.”

“Sleep wasn’t quite what I had in mind, Granger...” His voice trailed off as his hands drifted lower. 

Her eyes widened. “ _ Oh _ ,” she breathed out as he slipped his hands under her skirt and cupped her arse. He leaned down and pressed a long kiss to her neck. “ _ That _ sounds like a perfect way to celebrate.”

“Does it now?” he murmured against the column of her neck, sucking gently at the skin just below her jaw.

The rumble of his voice sent a shivering wave of arousal through her and she arched her neck, encouraging his lips to continue.

“It does. Maybe more than one celebration, if you’re interested.”

She felt him smile before he pulled away and threaded his fingers into her curls.

“I think you’ll find that I’m  _ very _ interested,” he teased, pressing his erection against her stomach.

His lips were soft yet firm as they caressed hers, capturing her whimpers and teasing her with his tongue. When his hand shifted between her thighs, she rocked her hips against his fingertips, even though the feathery touch was torment and did little to ease her growing ache. Curling his fingers forward, he pressed the pad of his thumb against her swollen clit, sending a jolt of pleasure up her spine.

With a step forward, he guided her backwards until her arse hit the edge of the table. 

Standing on her tiptoes, she molded herself to him, feeling him slip his hand under the soaked scrap of lace that covered her core. 

He groaned into her mouth and she thought she might combust. “Gods,” he said, his voice sounding strangled as he plunged a single finger into her, dragging it out slowly before pushing back in. “Your cunt is addicting, Granger.”

Each thrust coaxed her closer to shattering with her release. Shifting her weight, she widened her stance to provide him better access and tucked her head against his shoulder, focusing on the intoxicating sensation of being filled over and over again.

She clung to Draco, balancing between him and the table as she ground against his hand, gasping into his chest with the addition of a second finger. The stretch felt exquisite and she used one hand to anchor herself to him and lowered the other to cup his arousal, massaging him through his trousers. He withdrew his fingers just long enough to push her knickers to the floor.

Dipping his head, he covered the peak of her breast with his mouth, sucking her nipple through the fabric of her shirt. The muffled touch was so light that she groaned in frustration, continuing to stroke him from the base to the tip of his cock. She released her hold on him and fumbled through the buttons on her blouse, unsnapping her bra before slipping it all off her shoulders in one swift movement. 

The clothing fell to the floor and his heated gaze settled on her chest.

With his free hand, he swiped his thumb across her pebbled nipple, drawing a moan from her. His pupils were blown as he drank in every reaction, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, his prominent erection pushing against her abdomen.

He whispered in the shell of her ear, “You feel even better than any fantasy. I’ll never get over the way your greedy little cunt begs for more of my fingers. I wonder how you’ll feel around my cock.”

“I’m so close. Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her blood humming in her veins as she arched into his touch. “Please, just like that.”

Her walls began to flutter around him and he let out a grunt punctuated by a whispered “Fuck.”

Writhing against him, she tried to hold herself up as her orgasm barreled down on her suddenly. She tipped her head back and moaned, his other arm wrapped firmly around her waist to support her as she rode out the waves of oblivion. Her knees were weak with the aftershocks and he pulled her into a fierce kiss, his fingers still buried in her cunt.

“What do you need?” he asked, his fingers twisting inside her, pulling out another moan. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give you anything.”

The anticipation was unbearable.

“Your cock,” she whispered, feeling her face flush with the admission. Her core pulsed with need and she loved the way her words made his breath catch. “I need your cock.”

Draco made a delicious sound—something between a gasp and a groan—before withdrawing his fingers abruptly. “Bloody hell, Granger, you’re going to ruin me.”

She barely registered her surroundings as he pulled her away from the table and led her up the stairs to his room, leaving her long forgotten clothing behind. Falling backwards onto his bed, she suddenly felt hyper aware that he was still fully clothed and she was only wearing her uniform skirt.

With hunger in his eyes, he stalked around the end of the bed before shrugging off his shirt, toeing off his shoes and socks, and removing his trousers. The bed shifted as he joined her, nudging her legs apart and slotting himself between them. Looking into her eyes, he gave her a soft smile before leaning down to kiss her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around him, pulling him closer.

The feeling of his weight on top of her paired with his arousal pressed against her core made her dizzy with want. 

Breaking the kiss, he cupped her cheek with his hand and whispered, “I’m the luckiest man in the world to have you, and I don’t just mean in my bed.”

“I feel like I’m the lucky one,” she replied, relishing in the way his eyes softened as she spoke. “I love that you call me your witch.”

“My beautiful, brilliant, perfect witch.”

Raising her hips, Hermione ground herself against his clothed cock, sliding herself back and forth at a steady pace. His tip pushed just right against her overly-sensitive clit and she moaned.

“Sweetest sound in the world,” he murmured, meeting each tilt of her hips. 

Her hands slid down to his waist and she tugged at the elastic of his trunks, trying to push them down his hips. He smiled at her attempt and slipped them off, flinging them haphazardly across the room.

She licked her lips as she stared at his cock, standing to full attention. It looked larger than it had that morning, or maybe she’d forgotten in her lusty haze, and she fought back the urge to sit up to lick the small bead of precum at the tip.

Draco snagged his wand from the bedside table and she felt a warming sensation on her belly from the contraceptive spell. His eyes never broke from hers as he slowly unzipped her skirt—the last remaining item of clothing between them.

A fire rushed through her veins as he began kissing her once more, this time softer, worshipping her lips with every kiss. His thighs pushed up against hers and soon the head of his cock was nestled into place, stretching her open. His forehead rested against hers as he filled her completely, and they both gasped from the sensation. He paused for a moment to let her adjust. 

Even with her earlier orgasm relaxing her, she still felt full beyond belief as he bottomed out inside her. He slowly began to move, setting a languid pace. 

Then his lips were back on hers; her hands tangled in his hair and she held him in place as each drag of his cock drove her to the brink. Her hips rose to meet his thrusts, catching a rhythm as his thumb swirled circles over her clit. 

Tilting her hips, the head of his cock hit a new angle and she whimpered, anchoring her heels in place. She had never felt so absolutely  _ full _ before. Rolling her hips, she took him again and again. 

Everywhere his lips touched, they left a trail of blazing fire across her skin.

His fingers stuttered on her clit and she smashed her lips to his, muffling her moan.

He pulled away from her kiss, his hot breath coming out in pants above her. “I’m close—Hermione—”

“Draco,” she gasped, feeling the waves of her orgasm building low in her abdomen. “Don’t you dare stop.”

A wash of blinding pleasure crashed over her as she clenched around his cock, whimpering his name into the night air. 

“Gods, Hermione.” His breath trembled and his hips stuttered from their cadence as he finished with a low groan. 

He slipped out of her and collected her in his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I take back my earlier comment about being too awake to sleep,” she teased, meeting his silver eyes with a smile. “I’ve found that I’m suddenly quite exhausted.”

“Are you now?”

“And slightly chilled,” she added, wrapping her arms around herself. “Why is your room so much colder than mine?”

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Draco dropped a quick kiss to the top of her head and climbed out of bed, pulling on his trunks before disappearing out the door.

She sunk back into his pillows and sighed, feeling like she could stay there with him forever. 

Moments later, he returned with her abandoned knickers from the common room and a shirt he retrieved from his wardrobe. It was an old, soft Slytherin shirt that she’d seen him wear on occasional Saturday mornings around the dorm. “I come with a humble offering.” 

After giving him a grateful smile, she shrugged on the oversized shirt and pulled her knickers on before sliding back into place next to him. “Much better.”

“Please stay,” he murmured, brushing part of her hair away from her face. “In fact, I doubt we even need your room anymore. It seems excessive.”

She snuggled up closer, wrapping an arm around his torso and nodding against his chest. “Of course I’ll stay.” She fought back a yawn, feeling her blinks growing longer as her eyelids grew heavier. “I’ve waited years for you and I’m not ready to give you up.”

“You’ll never have to give me up,” he whispered, his arms tightening around her just before she fell into sleep. “I’m absolutely yours.”

* * *

The bed dipped behind Hermione and she could smell traces of Draco’s aftershave through her sleepy haze. Drifting in and out of consciousness, she felt an arm slip around her waist in a protective hold. As warmth enveloped her, she wanted to burrow herself into it and never leave. 

She felt a kiss placed just behind her ear, paired with low murmurings she couldn’t quite hear.

After taking a moment to convince herself to wake up, she opened her eyes and untangled her legs from Draco’s, twisting to face him. 

“Good morning.” His silver eyes traced her face as he threaded his fingers through her curls, cupping the back of her head. 

“Morning,” she stifled a yawn, realising how alert he looked for the hour. “Where did you go?”

His fingers began tracing slow, lazy circles on her scalp. “Just had a quick letter to send. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“At this hour? Did you even sleep?”

“Of course.” Seeing her look of disbelief, his lips twisted into a smile. “At least a solid fifteen minutes.”

Rolling her eyes, she tucked herself in closer to him. “That doesn’t count.”

“It’s a power nap.”

She scoffed. “There’s no such thing. That’s not a nap as much as it is an exceptionally long blink.”

His fingers twisted part of the material of her shirt, staring at it with a curious expression. 

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m just thinking of all of the clothing I have in my wardrobe.”

With a snort, she stared at him. “Did you only own one shirt? Because I’m not willing to part with this one quite yet and I don’t think the general population of witches would argue with you walking around shirtless.”

The heated look he gave her caused her teasing smile to fade. “I was thinking of what else I should give you to wear to bed,” he admitted softly, his arm stretching down and his fingertips trailing along her bare thigh. “I think it’s my new favourite hobby.”

“Watching me wear nothing but knickers and your shirt is your new favourite hobby?”

“Knickers optional.” He winked, hooking his finger around the edge of her knickers and tugging. 

Her teeth dug into the pillow of her lower lip and she gave him a coy look. “If the offer still stands, I think I’ll take you up on it.”

“What offer?”

“I’m feeling rather  _ tense _ ...” She feigned a sigh and reached down to cup his already hardened cock, constrained by his trunks. “I might need some  _ release _ in the shower before breakfast.”

His breath came in a shallow gasp and he jerked his hips forward against her palm once, as if involuntary.

“What do you say, Malfoy?”

He groaned in response, twisting and lifting her until she was straddling his hips, her palms resting on his chest to balance herself. “I say that I know the perfect way to work up an appetite.”

* * *

Hermione slipped into her regular seat next to Harry at the Gryffindor table, feeling a strange sense of anticipation at experiencing her first day outside the loop. 

“Morning,” Harry mumbled, swallowing a bit of food before groaning. “I swear, If I have another person come up and ask me who made the Quidditch team instead of waiting for the posting, I’m going to throw one of Hagrid’s rock cakes at them.”

It was odd how easy it felt to slip back into her normal routine. As riveting as it was to hear Harry and Ron repeat the same discussion each morning, she was grateful to have a change of pace. The thought made her realise that she had yet to see Ron.

“Speaking of beggars for the list, where is Ron?” she asked, snagging a piece of toast from the plate in front of her and taking a bite. 

Above them, the owls descended and began to drop packages at each table. 

Harry shrugged. “Having a bit of a lie-in this morning; he wanted to keep sleeping. Maybe he caught whatever illness you had yesterday?” 

“Oh.” She blinked in surprise, realising that in  _ his  _ yesterday, she hadn’t been in class. She had only missed class a handful of times over the years and each time was for an illness.

“Are you feeling better?”

She looked up and caught Draco’s gaze from across the room, a smile pulling at her lips. “Much. In fact, I won’t be able to eat breakfast with you today, I have a promise to keep.” Before she could convince herself otherwise, she dropped the remainder of her toast on the plate in front of her and crossed the Great Hall over to the Slytherin table.

Draco’s grin grew with every step she took towards him, and he shifted in place to make room beside him on the bench. “Hermione Granger, eating with the Slytherins?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a few curious looks from students as they passed by.

Her smile matched his as she shook her head and took a seat, lowering her voice. “I do recall promising to have breakfast with you if we ever got out of the time loop. I’m not one to break a promise.”

His arm slipped around her and his hand settled on her waist; the move felt so natural and familiar that she leaned in closer to his touch. 

A bewildered-looking Theo was staring at Hermione and Draco, waiting for an explanation. 

“Tea?” Draco offered, using his free hand to prepare her a cup. 

“Yes, please.” She felt stares as the other occupants of the table began to notice her presence. “I, uh, believe I stand out a bit.”

With a flourish, he retrieved his wand and tapped her tie, turning her gold and crimson into emerald green and silver. “Problem solved.”

“Malfoy!” she gasped, her mouth dropping open as she stared down at her tie. “Even if I’m the Head Girl and push for house unity, I’m still a  _ Gryffindor _ first. I can’t exactly go around wearing the colours of another house.”

His fingers tightened on her waist for a split second before letting go. He leaned forward and picked up a rectangular package from the table that she hadn’t noticed until now. “I do believe I have a solution for that, as well. If you agree, that is.”

“What?”

“I turned of age over the summer.” 

She cocked her head slightly, noticing the way his knuckles had turned white while clutching the package. He looked nervous, like the way he did before a big exam or the morning after she joined the loop.

“Which is why I could turn down the betrothal contract,” he continued, his silver eyes searching hers. “I came into my inheritance. I have my own vault, my own title. I’m not bound by my parents anymore.”

“Okay…” Her heart skipped a beat as he handed the package to her.

He tugged gently at the string until it fell along with the wrapping. “Which means that I can do this.”

Hermione recognised the long, velvet jewelry box, having seen Pansy Parkinson parade a similar one that she had received from Marcus Flint over the summer. “Is that—”

“Hermione Granger, if you’ll have me, this is my formal declaration of intent to court you.”

She opened the necklace box and inside was a ruby surrounded by diamonds, set in gold. It was the most expensive thing she had ever held in her hands, she was sure. The shocked whispers of students around them became ambient background noise as the weight of his words settled in. 

According to Pansy’s obnoxious ramblings, this was the Pureblood way to publicly announce the seriousness of their intentions—the step before a proposal of marriage. 

It meant he was telling everyone that he only wanted her.

After years of watching him change before her eyes, months of living with him, and weeks of growing closer in the loop, there wasn’t a single doubt in her mind.

“Of course I’ll have you!” 

She pulled him to her for a kiss, nearly dropping the necklace in the process. Her arms draped around his neck and she felt him return it with everything he had.

By the time Hermione broke away, she heard quick footsteps approaching behind her.

“Hermione! What are you doing with Malfoy?” Harry sounded frantic, his eyes wide with confusion as he stared at the box in her hand.

“Harry.” She dropped her hands back to her lap and a million thoughts raced through her mind. There wasn’t enough time, and far too much attention on them to explain everything she and Draco had been through together over the past few months.

“Surely you’ve seen a proper courtship before, Potter.” Draco looked completely unfazed as he lifted the necklace and slipped it around Hermione's neck, clasping it in the back. 

She held the pendant between her fingers, feeling it warm to her touch. 

“ _ Obviously _ ,” Harry gritted out his voice just above a whisper. “How could you date Malfoy and not tell me? How long has this been going on?”

Humming softly under her breath, she tried to think back. “I mean, I suppose that depends on what you mean. A month and a half? Maybe? It’s difficult to tell; time has been a bit of a blur as of late.”

“—A month and a half!”

“You know, Potter, Granger and I will be rather busy celebrating tonight. I had plans to teach Theo how to fly out at the pitch, but I suppose I’ll have to reschedule. Unless I can find someone to step in instead, that is...” Draco’s voice trailed off as he shared a pointed look with Harry.

“You were?” Theo’s brow knitted together.

“I’d hate for Theo to miss out on such a valuable learning opportunity. I know he’s been interested in  _ learning to fly _ for years.”

Harry’s emerald eyes sparkled with curiosity as he looked across the table at Theo, appearing to have momentarily forgotten his outrage. “Has he now?”

Theo dropped his fork to his plate with a clatter and cleared his throat. “I have.”

“I do have an open night, and I was planning on avoiding the Gryffindor commons,” Harry mused aloud. “It would be nice weather for a flight.”

“I should warn you, Theo has a rather dreadful fear of heights,” Draco added. “It might help for the two of you to start out sharing a broom—help get over that first bit of nerves.” 

Hermione swore she could hear Theo swallow from several feet away.

“Don’t worry, we’ll go slow,” Harry murmured, the corner of his lips curved up. “Meet you on the pitch after supper?”

Theo nodded, as if at a loss for words.

“See you in Potions?” Harry asked Hermione, looking slightly flushed.

She grinned, lacing her fingers with Draco’s. “See you in Potions.”

With a gentle tug to her hand, Draco led her away from the table and they walked between the house tables together.

Out of her peripheral, Hermione saw Ginny swat at Luna to get her attention and hiss, “I told you!”

“Look at all the Blibbering Humdingers,” Luna added, her eyes fixed above their heads.

“You were right,” Hermione admitted under her breath with a sly grin. “That was much better than a pizza.”

“You know, we can still get you another pizza. They aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Her nose wrinkled as she laughed, and the pair exited the Great Hall. “Keep that up and a witch could fall in love with you.”

“If I knew that’s all it took to win your heart, I would’ve tried this years ago,” he teased, pulling her off to the side and gently backing her up against the stone wall. His head dipped down to capture her lips and his hands cupped her cheeks.

She pulled back, breathless. “Draco, we aren’t in the loop anymore. You can’t just pin me against the wall and snog me; everyone’s going to remember this tomorrow.”

“Good.” His eyes caught on her lips and just before closing the space between them, he murmured, “I want them to remember.”

“ _ What _ ?” an incredulous voice exclaimed from around the corner. “You’re taking the mickey.”

“I swear! She has this look in her eyes, and she’s laying on her back and meowing and swatting at nothing!” another student replied. “I tried to turn in my essay since I’m missing class tomorrow and she didn’t even transform back from a cat!”

“Circe, there’s no way McGonagall is  _ high _ ,” the first girl asserted with a laugh.

Hermione gasped, slipping out from under Draco’s hands and breaking into a run down the corridor. “Shit!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Draco caught up to her in a few steps. “Where are you going?”

“Gods, I’m so thick! Alex and Michael and the loop! The days have been looping!”

His eyes were wild with confusion. “What? You knew this. What are you talking about?”

She stopped dead in front of McGonagall’s office and turned to him, her voice low in horror. “You don’t understand _ , I forgot about the biscuits _ !”


End file.
